TOM-BENTON'S-  LUCK: 


HERBERT-  E-HAMBLEN 


TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 


WITHIN  A  CABLE'S  LENGTH  OF  THE  QUARTER."     See  page  296. 

Frontispiece. 


TOM    BENTON'S    LUCK 


BY 


HERBERT   ELLIOTT    HAMBLEN 

AUTHOR  OF  "ON  MANY  SEAS,"   "THE    GENERAL   MANAGER'S 
STORY,"    ETC. 


gorfc 
THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON :  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1898 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1898, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


J.  8.  Cuihing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Moss.  U.S.A. 


r 


To 
WILLIAM   STONE   BOOTH 

MY   STEADFAST    FRIEND   AND    LITERARY   MENTOR 

Efjis  Ffllume  10  JBetiicatetJ 

IN    TOKEN    OF    SINCERE    ESTEEM 


436324 


TABLE    OF   CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I 

PAGE 

TOM'S  EARLY  HOME  —  DEATH  OF  HIS  FATHER  —  A  SUR- 
PRISE FROM  THE  MATE  —  DRIVEN  FORWARD  —  TOM  AND 
THE  CARPENTER  PLOT  MUTINY  —  A  DESPERATE  FIGHT  IN 
THE  DARK I 

CHAPTER     II 

TOM  TRIUMPHANT  — A  WORD  TO  THE  CREW  —  THE  PRIS- 
ONERS RESCUED —  THE  "COLUMBIA11  ARRIVES  .  .  2O 

CHAPTER    III 

"  BULLY  BLAKE  "  —  KITTY  —  THE  "  SPRITE  "  —  AN  UNSYM- 
PATHETIC RECEPTION  —  ALEC  SIZES  UP  THE  OLD  MAN 
AND  GIVES  TOM  SOME  ADVICE  —  A  VERY  PLEASANT  DAY 

—  A  WET   BLANKET — BULLY  BLAKE  SHOWS  HIS  TEETH  — 
TOM    FINDS    HIMSELF   FRIENDLESS 29 

CHAPTER   IV 

KITTY   PROVES   HERSELF   "TRUE    BLUE"  —  THE    FIRST    KISS 

—  A    STORMY     INTERVIEW    WITH     BULLY     BLAKE  —  TOM 
LEAVES   PORTLAND  —  THE   SAILORS1    HOME   IN   NEW   YORK 

—  A   BENEVOLENT   EX-CAPTAIN  —  SANDBAGGED  —  A  PRIS- 
ONER—  TO  THE  WORKHOUSE — TO  THE  CHARITY  HOSPITAL      49 

vii 


viii  TABLE  OF   CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   V 

PAGE 

DEATH  OF  BULLY  BLAKE  —  A  GRAND  FUNERAL  FOR  A  GOOD 
MAN  —  LAWYER  NAYLOR  SEES  HIS  OPPORTUNITY  —  CAP- 
TAIN BLAKE'S  CHARACTER  VINDICATED  —  MR.  NAYLOR 

REWARDED  —  KITTY   PERFORMS  AN  ACT  OF  RESTITUTION      68 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE  HARDEST  OF  HARD  LUCK  IN  NEW  YORK  —  A  GOOD 
SAMARITAN  —  GENERAL  UTILITY  MAN  —  AT  SEA  AGAIN  — 
"  ACROSS  THE  WESTERN  OCEAN  " 77 


CHAPTER  VII 

TOM  TAKES  A  RUN  TO  BOSTON  —  CAPTAIN  BEEBE  —  ABAFT 
THE  STICK  AT  LAST  —  A  RAGING  CALM  —  A  SUBMARINE 
EARTHQUAKE — THE  WORK  OF  THE  TIDAL  WAVE  —  THE 
CREW  REFUSE  TO  PUMP  —  "  I'LL  TURN  'EM  TO  FOR  YE  !" 
—  CAPSIZED  .  100 


CHAPTER  VIII 

KITTY  GOES  TO  LIVE  WITH  THE  HAYWARDS  —  IT  IS  DECIDED 
THAT  KITTY  MUST  BE  EDUCATED  —  MONTREAL  —  MISS 
LAVINIA  RANDOLPH  —  NELLIE  DRUSE  —  A  TRIP  TO  TROP- 
ICAL SEAS  .  Il6 


CHAPTER   IX 

WRECKED  AGAIN— THE  CATAMARAN  —  THE   HOME   OF   THE 
WARUNAS  — LIFE   ON   A   MUD-BANK  — A   QUEER   FUNERAL 
-  UP     THE     GREAT     RIVER  —  A     STRANGE      HARVEST  — 
-ESCAPE      ......,,..    125 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  ix 


CHAPTER  X 

PAGE 

TOM  ESCAPES  FROM  THE  WARUNAS  —  LOS  LLANOS,  Y  LOS 
LLANEROS  —  TOM^S  EXPERIENCE  ON  EL  HATO  DE  SANTA 
BARBARA  —  DON  RAMON,  THE  REBEL  CHIEF  .  .  .  148 


CHAPTER  XI 

EXCITEMENT  IN   THE   LLANOS  —  TOM    BECOMES   A   PARTISAN 

—  OFF  TO  THE  WARS  —  A  TIRESOME  MARCH  —  THE  SWAMP 
OF  CAMAGUAN  —  ENTHUSIASTIC  RECEPTION  AT  CALABOZO 

—  GUNS    AND    AMMUNITION  —  FAREWELL    TO    THE    FAIR 
CALABOZANAS  —  THE     ENEMY  —  THE    NIGHT    ATTACK  — 
THE  DEADLY  PASS  OF   CARACAS  —  DEATH  OF   DON  RAMON 

—  TOM   IS   RENDERED   "HORS   DE  COMBAT"       .  .  .165 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  HORRORS  OF  CARACAS  PASS  —  WATER  —  SIR  JOHN  —  A 
HAPPY  MEETING  —  MORE  TROUBLE  —  THE  CALABOOSE  — 
THE  COURT-MARTIAL — "TO  BE  SHOT  AT  SUNRISE11  —  A 
WILD  CRY  FOR  HELP 1 82 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A  RARE  SUMMER  HOLIDAY  —  JAMAICA  —  TRINIDAD  —  LA 
GUAYRA  —  THE  CACAO  PLANTATION  —  MR.  ARTHUR  LIND- 
SAY—  LIFE  IN  CARACAS  —  A  YACHT  CRUISE  —  A  CRY  FOR 
HELP  —  A  RIDE  FOR  A  LIFE 2OI 

CHAPTER   XIV 

FRANK  PLANS  TO  INTERCEPT  THE  "  FLORA11 — HE  HAS  MANY 
MISGIVINGS  —  RUN  DOWN  —  MR.  LINDSAY  AND  ROBERT  TO 
THE  RESCUE  —  A  WILD  RIDE  AGAINST  TIME  —  THE  YEL- 
LOW CURS  DEFIED 214 


X  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   XV 

PAGE 

A  GLORIOUS  RESPITE  —  KITTY  —  JONAS  SPELLMAN  —  AN 
EXASPERATING  INTERVIEW  —  ADRIFT  AGAIN  —  CAPTAIN 
TOMPKINS  —  THE  "  GRACIE "  —  BOSTON  .  .  .  23 1 

CHAPTER  XVI 

MR.  JABEZ  CARTWRIGHT — TOM  FINDS  GENEROSITY  STILL  A 
MYTH  —  THE  "  BARRACOOTA  "  —  CAPTAIN  HENRY  BRAD- 
FORD —  A  FRIEND  AT  LAST  —  LUCK  TURNS  FOR  THE 
BETTER  — OFF  FOR  MADRAS  .  .249 

CHAPTER  XVII 

HOMEWARD  BOUND  —  NELLIE  IS  SMITTEN  —  HAVANA  —  A 
GALE  OFF  HATTERAS  —  NEW  YORK  —  OFF  FOR  MONTREAL 
AND  SCHOOL  —  A  CRASH  ON  THE  ROAD  —  KITTY  IS  LOST 

—  THE  HOME  OF  THE  STAGGS  —  A  THOROUGH  BUT  UN- 
SUCCESSFUL SEARCH  —  GIVEN  UP  — KITTY  STARTS  ON  A 
SEARCH  FOR  TOM   ....  .  266 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

MADRAS  —  CAPTAIN  BRADFORD  CUTS  A  DASH  —  DEATH  OF 
MR.  CARTWRIGHT  —  MATRIMONY  IN  THE  AIR  —  THE 
"  BARRACOOTA  "  BECOMES  A  COUNTRY  WALLAH  —  THE 
WIDOW  —  BOMBAY  —  CAPTAIN  BRADFORD  MARRIES  AND 
GIVES  THE  SHIP  TO  TOM  —  BAD  WEATHER  —  A  GREAT 
WATERSPOUT  —  THE  ANCIENT  WRECK  —  COPPER  BARS 

—  NEPTUNE'S  FATE  —  GOLD 284 

CHAPTER  XIX 

KITTY  MAKES  AN  ACQUAINTANCE  —  MRS.  DE  LACEY  AND 
HER  TROUBLES  —  A  TRUE  AND  HELPFUL  FRIEND  —  TO 
EUROPE  —  KITTY'S  MEMORY  RETURNS  —  JOYFUL  NEWS 
FOR  THE  FOLKS  AT  HOME  —  M.  PIERRE  FOUCHET  —  KITTY 
AND  MRS.  DE  LACEY  DECIDE  TO  TRAVEL  .  .  .  306 


TABLE  OF   CONTENTS  xi 

CHAPTER   XX 

PAGE 

A  STRANGE  BUSINESS  TRANSACTION  —  TOM  RESIGNS  —  THE 
"  SOCOTRA  "  —  PORTLAND  —  TERRIBLE  NEWS  —  OFF  TO 
SEA 324 

CHAPTER   XXI 

HOMEWARD  BOUND  —  CAPTAIN  NICK  TYLER  —  A  LEAKY 
OLD  RATTLETRAP  —  THROUGH  THE  CENTRE  OF  THE 
STORM  —  WATER-LOGGED  —  "  SOCOTRA  "  TO  THE  RESCUE 

—  FACE   TO   FACE       . 337 

CHAPTER  XXII 

BASHFUL  TOM  MAKES  POOR  PROGRESS — HE  MEETS  SIR  JOHN 

—  A    CONFESSION  —  AN    INVITATION  —  THE     BETROTHAL 
PARTY  —  TOM  SHINES  —  FRIENDLY  ADVICE  —  TOM  SCREWS 
UP    HIS    COURAGE  —  A    DOUBLE    WEDDING  —  HOMEWARD 
BOUND  —  OLD    FRIENDS  —  OLD    SCENES  —  TOM    GETS    A 
BERTH   ASHORE  — CONCLUSION 354 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Within  a  cable's  length  of  the  quarter"    .         .        Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

"  Like  a  tiger  he  sprang  upon  him  " 12 

" '  Take  ye  fer  four,  boss  ! ' "                        .         •         •  56 

Tom  in  his  glory IQ6 

Alone  in  the  long-boat I28 

"  '  Fire  on  that  ...  if  you  dare  ! '  "     .        .                 .         •  230 

"  Her  upper  works  were  gone  " 3°° 

"  Looked  Tom  Benton  squarely  in  the  eyes  "...  362 


TOM   BENTON'S  LUCK 

CHAPTER    I 

TOM'S  EARLY  HOME  DEATH  OF  HIS  FATHER  —  A 

SURPRISE  FROM  THE  MATE DRIVEN  FORWARD 

TOM  AND  THE  CARPENTER  PLOT  MUTINY A  DES- 
PERATE FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK 

FROM  his  earliest  recollection,  Tom  Benton's  home 
had  been  on  board  the  thousand-ton  medium  clipper 
ship  Columbia,  of  Portland,  Maine.  His  father,  Cap- 
tain Joe  Benton,  had  brought  the  boy  up  under  his 
own  eye  ;  so  that,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  Tom  was 
an  expert  navigator  and  thorough  all-round  seaman. 
He  had  a  dim  remembrance  of  a  pale,  sweet-faced, 
invalid  mother ;  and  of  a  certain  day  when,  en- 
shrouded in  the  flag,  an  object  slid  from  the  lee 
gangway  into  the  blue  water.  His  father  hugged 
him  tight  and  shed  tears ;  but  that  was  so  long  ago 
that  he  hardly  remembered,  and  seldom  thought  of 
it  now. 

His  father  had  promised  to  put  him  on  the  articles 
as  third  mate  next  voyage,  to  pay  him  wages,  and 
see  what  he  was  good  for.  Tom  was  very  proud  of 


TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 


this,  and  promised  himself  that  his  father  should 
never  have  cause  to  regret  his  confidence  in  him. 
Unfortunately,  Captain  Joe,  who  had  been  ill  during 
a  stay  in  Buenos  Ayres,  died  and  was  buried  on  the 
passage  home.  The  day  before  his  death,  he  called 
the  two  mates  and  Tom  to  him  and  gave  them  his 
last  orders.  He  told  the  officers  that  he  left  the 
vessel  in  Tom's  charge ;  assuring  them  of  the  boy's 
ability  to  assume  the  burden,  and  enjoining  upon 
them  to  respect  and  obey  his  son  as  his  representa- 
tive. To  Tom  he  gave  much  good  advice  and  such 
information  concerning  his  worldly  affairs  as  he 
deemed  necessary,  telling  him  that  Captain  Blake, 
the  manager  of  the  line,  would  watch  over  his  inter- 
ests, and  advising  him  to  be  guided  entirely  by  the 
advice  of  that  good  man,  who  had  been  his  own 
lifelong  friend.  Father  and  son  prayed  and  mingled 
their  tears ;  for,  now  that  bluff  old  Captain  Joe  found 
himself  entering  his  port  of  final  discharge,  his  heart 
went  out  to  the  motherless  boy  he  was  leaving  to 
fight  the  battle  of  life  alone. 

The  main  yard  was  backed ;  the  hands  gathered 
about  the  capstan ;  and,  with  scant  ceremony,  the 
body  of  the  late  commander,  swathed  in  the  rough 
canvas  winding-sheet  of  the  sea,  slid  from  the  grating 
and  disappeared  forever. 

Poor  Tom,  his  heart  broken  by  his  first  great 
sorrow,  lay  on  a  spare  spar,  his  head  buried  in  his 


A   SURPRISE   FROM    THE   MATE  3 

arms,  oblivious  to  everything  but  his  own  misery. 
As  the  crew  were  bracing  the  yards  to  bring  the  ship 
to  her  course,  Tom  received  a  stinging  cut  from  a 
rope's  end  across  his  bare  legs.  He  leaped  to  his 
feet,  pain  and  anger  overcoming  for  the  moment  all 
other  feelings,  and  confronted  Mr.  Walsh,  the  mate, 
who,  with  the  rope  raised  to  repeat  the  blow  and 
eyes  glowering  viciously,  snapped  out :  — 

"  Come !  Git  up  out  o'  that  an'  lend  a  hand  at 
the  braces !  Your  skulkin'  days  are  over,  my  young 
buck!" 

Half  stupefied  with  surprise  at  the  indignity,  and 
enraged  by  the  undeniable  tittering  of  the  men,  Tom 
stood  for  a  moment  glaring  back  at  his  assailant. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  hitting  me?"  he  asked, 
with  quivering  lips  and  heaving  chest. 

"  What  do  I  mean,  hey  ?  What  do  I  mean,  you 
whelp  ?  I  mean  that  your  sojerin'  days  are  over ! 
You'll  take  your  dunnage  forrard  an'  work  for  your 
livin'  hereafter.  I'm  cap'n  now,  an'  you'll  find  it 
out  'fore  you're  a  week  older.  Come,  tail  onto  them 
braces  —  do  ye  hear?"  And  with  blows  and  curses 
he  drove  the  boy  to  work. 

From  captain's  son,  the  most  privileged  character 
aboard,  to  ship's  boy,  the  position  of  lowest  drudgery, 
is  a  long  step  to  the  rear.  But  the  mate's  power 
was  absolute.  There  was  no  appeal,  so  Tom  took 
his  belongings  forward  with  a  heavy  heart.  Of  a 


4  TOM   BENTON'S  LUCK 

bright,  happy,  and  generous  disposition,  he  had 
always  been  a  great  favorite  with  the  men,  for 
nearly  all  of  whom  he  had  done  favors;  but  now, 
taking  their  cue  from  the  officers,  they  treated  him 
according  to  the  time-serving  dictates  of  their  mean 
natures.  He  was  compelled  to  perform  all  manner 
of  humiliating  services  for  those  who,  but  the  day 
before,  had  been  proud  to  win  a  smile  and  a  pleas- 
ant word  from  the  captain's  son.  Though  Tom 
was  obliged  to  accept  the  position  forced  upon  him 
by  the  mate,  and  perform  with  the  best  grace  pos- 
sible the  duties  pertaining  to  it,  he  would  not  ac- 
cept personal  abuse.  One  of  the  branches  of  his 
education  under  his  father's  care  had  been  the 
noble  art  of  self-defence,  and  many  a  dog-watch 
had  father  and  son  thumped  each  other  merrily 
about  the  deck  with  the  mittens,  so  he  found  no 
difficulty  in  impressing  the  mongrels  in  the  fore- 
castle with  the  idea  that  he  was  a  first-rate  boy  to 
let  alone. 

There  was  one  man  in  the  crew  whom  Tom  be- 
lieved he  could  trust.  Alec  Webb,  the  big,  raw- 
boned  Nova  Scotia  carpenter,  had  been  in  the  ship 
nearly  five  years.  Captain  Joe  had  refused  to  leave 
him  to  die  in  the  hospital  at  Rio,  though  bring- 
ing him  aboard  the  ship  nearly  caused  a  mutiny, 
and  from  that  day  Chips  had  been  the  firm  friend 
of  his  captain,  and  to  Tom  he  was  like  an  elder 


TOM   PLOTS   MUTINY  5 

brother.  The  mate  knew  something. of  this  and  kept 
his  eye  on  the  pair,  but  they  eluded  his  vigilance 
and  enjoyed  many  a  quiet  chat.  One  day  Alec 
said  that  while  in  the  lazaret  breaking  out  a  bale 
of  oakum,  he  had  overheard  part  of  a  conversation 
between  the  mates  which  led  him  to  believe  that 
they  intended  either  to  take  her  to  St.  Thomas  and 
sell  her,  or  to  wreck  her  on  one  of  the  adjacent 
islets  and  dispose  of  the  wreckage.  They  had  ap- 
parently not  yet  decided  which  plan  to  adopt,  but 
he  was  satisfied  that  they  did  not  mean  to  take 
the  vessel  home.  Tom  was  startled  to  hear  of 
such  cool  villany,  as  he  knew  that  his  father  — 
and  therefore  himself  —  was  part  owner  of  the 
ship.  He  thought  rapidly,  and  turning  to  his  brawny 
friend,  said  :  — 

"  Chips,  we'll  have  to  take  her  away  from  them." 

"  I  don't  hardly  see  how  you  can  do  it,  Tom ;  the 
crew  ain't  reliable." 

"Hang  the  crew!  We  don't  need  their  help. 
Too  many  cooks  spoil  the  broth,  always.  You  and 
I  can  do  this  job  just  like  mice.  We  only  need 
to  get  the  upper  hand  of  the  two  mates ;  we  can 
handle  the  crew  all  right.  Nothing  would  suit  me 
better  than  to  have  a  tussle  with  those  two  gentle- 
men. You'll  stand  by  me,  won't  you,  Chips  ? " 

"Why,  yes,  Tom,  of  course  I'll  stand  by  ye," 
replied  Alec,  rather  dubiously.  "  Mutiny  is  a  pretty 


6  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

serious  business,"  he  continued,  "but  your  ole  man 
stood  by  me,  an'  you  can  bet  yer  life  Alec  is  your 
man  even  if  'tis  mutiny." 

Tom  saw  that  the  faithful  fellow  had  grave  mis- 
givings. He  tried  to  explain  that  there  was  a  dif- 
ference between  what  he  proposed  and  mutiny. 
The  carpenter  was  unable  to  distinguish  it.  Mu- 
tiny, to  him,  consisted  in  taking  a  vessel  from  her 
officers.  He  argued  that,  if  the  officers  were  scoun- 
drels, the  crew  were  not  supposed  to  know  it,  and 
if  they  did,  it  was  none  of  their  business.  "  But  I 
don't  care  nothin'  about  that,  Tom,"  he  continued  ; 
"if  you  say  the  word,  we'll  start  in  right  now." 

"  Oh,  no,  Chips,  I  ain't  quite  as  far  gone  as  that," 
replied  Tom ;  "  I  don't  know  but  that  would  be 
piracy.  We  must  not  do  anything  until  they  com- 
mit themselves.  I'll  keep  my  eye  skinned.  The 
mate  won't  allow  me  on  the  poop,  but  I  can  find 
out  the  course  by  listening  to  the  talk  of  the  sou- 
wegians  in  the  forecastle.  Sometimes  the  man  at 
the  wheel  overhears  the  latitude ;  when  he  does, 
he  always  tells  it  to  his  watchmates,  and  so  I  hear 
of  it.  You  see  I  almost  know  both  the  North  and 
South  Atlantic  charts  by  heart.  So  the  next  time 
I  hear  the  latitude  I'll  mark  it  down  somewhere, 
and  keep  a  guess  dead-reckoning  after  that.  I 
know  they  are  keeping  half  or  three-quarters  of  a 
point  to  the  westward  of  the  regular  course  now. 


TOM   PLOTS    MUTINY  7 

That  is  suspicious,  but  I  want  to  let  them  get  her 
away  out  of  her  course,  so  it  will  show  on  the  track 
chart,  don't  you  see?  Then  we've  got  proof.  Oh, 
no,  Chips,  I  don't  propose  to  do  anything  rash. 
Nothing  that  can  get  us  into  trouble.  We'll  get 
pay  and  praise  if  we  take  her  from  them,  because 
we  won't  do  it  until  we  can  prove  beyond  a  doubt 
that  they  intended  to  steal  her." 

"Wai,  all  right,"  responded  Alec. 

The  wind  fell  light,  the  weather  was  perfect,  and 
for  days  they  held  the  same  course.  Alec  had  no 
further  opportunity  of  hearing  the  plans  of  the 
officers,  and  as  nothing  leaked  out  from  any  other 
source,  he  began  to  doubt  again. 

"  I  may  have  been  mistaken,  Tom,"  said  he, 
anxiously ;  "  seems  as  if  we'd  hear  something  about 
it  if  it  was  so." 

"  How  could  you  be  mistaken  ?  "  asked  Tom,  a  little 
impatiently.  "  You  heard  it  yourself,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  that's  so." 

"  Well,  then,  'tain't  as  if  somebody  had  told  it  to 
you.  I  tell  you,  Chips,  they're  too  sharp  to  let 
on  to  anybody.  The  only  way  you'll  ever  hear 
any  more  about  that  will  be  when  you  get  it  from 
themselves,  like  you  did  before.  All  we've  got  to 
do  is  to  be  ready  all  the  time.  I  won't  ask  you 
to  commit  yourself  until  you  are  satisfied  they 
mean  mischief.  I  wish  I  could  see  the  chart  for 


8  TOM  BENTON'S   LUCK 

a  minute ;  I  ain't  quite  sure  about  the  latitude  of 
St.  Thomas.  I  think  it's  about  twenty.  At  any 
rate,  if  they  are  bound  for  there,  they'll  keep  her 
away  sharply  to  the  westward  before  they  get  by 
it;  so  you  keep  an  eye  out  for  the  latitude.  You 
can  find  something  to  do  round  aft  there  at  noon, 
and  they  may  mention  it.  Then  if  they  don't 
keep  her  away  before  passing  —  well,  say  the 
twenty-second  parallel,  we'll  give  it  up.  That's 
fair,  ain't  it?" 

"  Oh  yes,  that's  all  right,  Tom,  or  even  the 
twenty-fourth.  I  ain't  in  no  such  an  awful  pucker 
to  git  out  of  it.  I  don't  say  we  shall  give  up 
watchin'  'em,  because,  as  you  say,  'they're  almighty 
sharp,'  an'  if  they  thought  we  was  onto  'em,  they 
might  change  their  plans  altogether." 

Tom  watched  anxiously  the  bearings  of  the  sun 
by  day,  and  of  the  Southern  Cross  by  night,  for 
any  material  alteration  of  the  course ;  but  still  the 
old  ship  kept  her  nose  in  the  same  direction.  The 
carpenter  shop  was  in  the  after  part  of  the  deck- 
house. Chips  had  fitted  himself  a  bunk  in  the 
starboard  side  of  it,  and,  as  he  expressed  it,  was 
as  comfortable  as  a  bug  in  a  rug.  Tom  made  a 
couple  of  soft  gags,  and  spliced  eyes  in  two  pieces 
of  hambroline,  handy  to  tie  a  man's  hands  with. 
These  he  gave  to  Alec,  who  stowed  them  away 
under  his  mattress. 


TOM  PLOTS  MUTINY  9 

The  mate  neglected  no  opportunity  of  showing 
his  ill-will  toward  Tom  by  giving  him  all  manner 
of  disagreeable  jobs,  and  yelling  at  him  insultingly, 
but  he  never  again  raised  his  hand  to  him.  There 
was  something  in  the  glance  of  the  boy's  clear 
gray  eye  that  restrained  him,  big  bully  that  he  was. 

One  day  while  the  mates  were  at  dinner,  the 
steward  on  coming  from  the  cabin  passed  Tom, 
who  was  at  work  near  the  galley  door. 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  he,  "I  s'pose  we'll  be  losin' 
the  trades  'fore  long  now.  I  heard  Captain  Walsh 
say  she  was  in  '  twenty  thirty-five  '  at  noon  to-day. 
In  a  week  or  ten  days,  if  we  have  any  luck  at  all, 
we'll  be  pretty  close  to  Cape  Elizabeth.  Guess 
you  won't  be  sorry,  my  boy  ? " 

Tom's  heart  beat  fast  at  this  news.  The  time 
he  believed  was  near  now,  when  he  would  have  to 
make  the  first  important  move  of  his  life ;  and  as 
he  felt  sure  the  mate  would  be  pleased  at  any 
excuse  to  make  away  with  him,  he  was  indeed  con- 
fronted by  a  serious  undertaking.  That  night  at 
twelve  o'clock  the  mate — who  was  a  poor  navi- 
gator—  squared  the  yards  and  kept  her  away  due 
west.  When  Tom  saw  her  head  swing  off,  he 
wanted  to  hug  himself  and  dance.  He  had  no 
chance  to  speak  to  Alec  until  the  next  day  in  the 
last  dogwatch,  and  then  only  for  a  moment.  Point- 
ing to  the  sun,  which  was  dead  ahead,  he  asked:  — 


IO  TOM    BENTON'S    LUCK 

"What  did  I  tell  ye,  Chips?" 

"  By  gosh  !  yer  right,  Tom  !  They've  hung  them- 
selves, sure  enough,"  replied  the  carpenter  joyfully; 
"when  shall  we  do  the  trick?" 

"We'll  have  to  watch  for  a  chance.  I'd  give  a 
big  apple,  if  I  had  it,  to  know  the  longitude.  I 
want  to  let  them  go  as  far  as  possible,  and  get 
themselves  good  and  foul,  so  as  to  have  unmistak- 
able proof  of  their  guilt ;  but  if  we  wait  too  long, 
they'll  arrive  before  we  are  ready." 

"Well,  let's  jump  on  'em  right  away,  then." 

"  No,  we'll  let  'em  go  awhile.  We'll  watch  'em, 
an'  I  guess  we  can  tell  by  their  actions  when  they 
are  getting  pretty  close  in.  Walsh  is  a  poor  navi- 
gator; he  could  hardly  make  the  broadside  of  Amer- 
ica in  daylight  without  heaving  to  a  couple  of 
times ;  so  he'll  go  slow  when  he  thinks  he's  most 
there.  You  see  it's  all  longitude  now,  an'  that 
tangles  him  up  bad." 

"All  right,  Tom.  You  know  more  about  that 
part  of  it  than  I  do ;  but  when  you  are  good  an' 
ready,  why,  just  call  on  yours  truly,  that's  all." 

For  three  days  the  Columbia  rolled  lazily  to  the 
westward.  On  the  third  day  the  course  was 
changed,  so  that,  allowing  for  variation,  she  was 
heading  a  point  to  the  southward  of  west.  This 
warned  Tom  that  they  were  approaching  close  to 
their  destination.  The  crew  commented  on  the 


TOM   PLOTS   MUTINY  II 

strange  course  they  were  steering,  but  of  course 
it  was  none  of  their  business,  and  they  did  not  dare 
ask  for  information.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing Mr.  Walsh  told  the  second  mate  to  reduce  sail 
if  the  wind  increased  during  his  watch  —  a  clear 
sign  that  he  did  not  wish  to  go  far  before  day- 
light. Between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  the  weather 
changed.  Black  squalls  arose  on  the  horizon,  the 
wind  became  puffy,  and  then  died  out  altogether, 
while  the  great  clouds  rolled  up  like  masses 
of  smoke  from  a  cannonade.  When  the  advance 
guard  of  this  column  of  darkness  reached  the 
zenith,  and  was  streaked  and  split  by  innumer- 
able threadlike  flashes  of  lightning,  Mr.  Wilkins, 
the  second  mate,  took  in  the  royals  and  flying  jib. 
Tom  was  on  the  alert.  Two  men  went  out  to  furl 
the  flying  jib,  and  one  to  each  of  the  royals.  This 
left  only  the  man  at  the  wheel  and  the  one  on 
lookout,  on  deck  with  the  second  mate.  Tom 
could  not  have  arranged  things  more  satisfactorily 
himself.  He  slipped  round  to  the  carpenter's  win- 
dow on  the  lee  side  of  the  house,  and  could  hear 
Chips  snoring  peacefully.  He  reached  in,  seized 
him  by  the  beard  and  gave  it  a  vicious  twitch.  It 
was  the  signal  agreed  upon,  as  Alec  said  it  inva- 
riably woke  him  quietly.  With  a  spasmodic  snort 
the  snoring  ceased.  Tom  could  hear  him  moving 
lazily  as  if  about  to  turn  over  for  another  nap. 


12  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

He    reached    in    again,    but    the    carpenter    whis- 
pered : — 

"  All  right,  Tom,  I'm  a  comin'." 

Arming  himself  with  a  couple  of  belaying-pins, 
Tom  crept  round  to  the  shop  door.  The  sky  was 
now  entirely  overcast,  and  it  was  very  dark,  but  he 
could  see  the  second  mate  in  the  waist.  He  was 
leaning  on  the  rail  and  looking  to  windward.  Tom 
stepped  inside  the  shop  and  hurriedly  explained  the 
situation  to  Alec.  Together  they  stole  quietly  on 
deck,  stooping  to  conceal  themselves  as  much  as 
possible.  Tom  crept  round  abaft  the  second  mate, 
while  the  carpenter  approached  him  from  forward. 
When  they  were*  within  three  feet  of  him,  the  man 
on  the  main  royal  yard  hailed  the  deck,  asking  to 
have  the  weather  buntline  hauled  up.  At  the  first 
sound  of  the  hail  Mr.  Wilkins  looked  aloft.  The 
carpenter  saw  his  opportunity.  Like  a  tiger  he 
sprang  upon  him,  seizing  the  bearded  throat  with 
a  grip  like  a  fox  trap.  They  were  both  powerful 
fellows,  and  second  mates  are  not  the  kind  of  men 
who  are  easily  subdued.  But  a  man  with  his  wind 
shut  off,  though  possessed  of  the  strength  of  des- 
peration, is  at  a  disadvantage.  There  was  a  sudden, 
silent,  and  awful  struggle  in  the  dark. 

Tom  jumped  in  to  help,  but  in  the  darkness  he 
was  unable  to  tell  which  head  to  hit.  The  night 
was  close  and  hot.  The  two  men  perspired  like 


LIKE  A  TIGER  HE  SPRANG  UPON  HIM. 


A  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  13 

rain,  and  the  carpenter's  hold  became  slippery. 
With  a  sudden  jerk  the  second  mate  succeeded 
in  freeing  his  throat.  Before  he  could  be  silenced, 
he  gave  a  gasping  yell,  more  like  the  screech  of  a 
wild  cat  than  the  cry  of  a  human  being.  A  friendly 
flicker  of  lightning  enabled  Tom  to  jam  a  belaying- 
pm  in  his  open  mouth.  The  carpenter  turned  him 
oyer,  and  they  soon  had  him  effectually  tied  and 
gagged.  As  they  were  dragging  him  toward  the 
carpenter  shop  the  squall  struck  her.  The  wind 
roared  through  the  rigging  like  a  hurricane,  the 
rain  came  down  in  a  deluge,  and  as  Tom  was 
wondering  whether  Mr.  Wilkins'  cry  had  awakened 
the  mate,  there  came  a  steelly  blue  flash  of  light- 
ning, followed  by  a  couple  of  pistol  shots  from 
the  break  of  the  poop.  Oh,  yes,  the  mate  was 
awake. 

At  the  first  shot,  the  carpenter  dropped  his  end 
of  the  second  mate  and,  with  a  groan,  fell  on  top 
of  him.  Two  more  shots  were  fired,  and  then  — 
silence.  Tom  dropped  flat  on  the  deck  and  worked 
his  way  to  the  lee  scuppers,  where  he  lay  close  to 
the  spar,  in  six  inches  of  water.  He  was  now  in  a 
fix.  The  carpenter  was  wounded  —  perhaps  killed. 
He  did  not  know  whether  the  mate  was  on  deck, 
or  had  fired  from  the  window  of  his  room ;  but  he 
expected  that  the  next  flash  of  lightning  would 
make  a  target  of  him.  The  squall  was  now  at  its 


14  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

height,  so  he  crawled  aft,  to  be  in  the  shadow  of 
the  poop  when  the  next  flash  came.  He  became 
aware  that  somebody  was  fumbling  with  the  cap- 
stan bars  in  the  rack  on  the  front  of  the  cabin. 
It  must  be  the  mate.  Tom  was  tempted  to  sprirg 
upon  him  and  have  it  out;  but  Mr.  Walsh  was  a 
big  man  with  a  pistol,  and  Tom  was  only  a  boy 
with  a  belaying-pin.  The  squall  ceased  as  sud- 
denly as  it  had  come  up,  leaving  a  flat  calm.  The 
ship  was  now  again  on  an  even  keel.  Tom  could 
hear  the  last  of  the  rain  dripping  from  the  poop 
scuppers.  The  sails  flapped  wetly,  lazily.  There 
were  voices  forward.  The  men  had  come  in  from 
furling  the  flying  jib  and  were  talking  as  they 
coiled  the  sheets  and  down  haul. 

A  thinning  of  the  clouds  ahead  enabled  Tom  to 
see  a  dark  object  sneaking  along  the  weather  rail, 
and  by  the  faint  moonlight  he  made  out  that  it 
was  the  mate  with  a  capstan  bar.  Carefully  he 
worked  his  way  along,  until  he  was  abreast  of 
where  the  second  mate  lay,  bound  and  gagged,  but 
kicking  his  heels  noisily  against  the  deck.  Mistak- 
ing the  prostrate  figure  for  the  carpenter,  the  mate 
leaped  toward  it  and  delivered  a  vicious  blow  with 
the  handspike.  He  missed,  and  as  the  swing  of  the 
heavy  handspike  nearly  took  him  from  his  feet,  the 
carpenter  leaped  from  behind  the  mainmast  and 
grappled  with  him. 


A   FIGHT   IN  THE  DARK  "15 

"  Come  on,  Tom,"  he  cried ;  "  I  fooled  him  that 
time.  Lend  a  hand  here  quick,  I've  got  the 
mate !  " 

"  You  have,  hey  ?  You  blue-nosed  hound,  you'll 
wish  you  hadn't  before  I  get  through  with  you," 
said  Walsh,  as  he  struggled  with  Alec. 

Tom  ran  to  the  carpenter's  assistance,  but  the 
man  from  the  main  royal  yard,  a  burly  Norwegian, 
jumped  from  the  rail  to  the  deck  right  in  front  of 
him. 

"  Hey,  hey,  vat's  all  dis  about  ? "  he  asked,  as 
he  seized  Tom  by  the  throat. 

The  mate  shook  Alec  off,  fired  two  shots  at  him 
point  blank,  and  ran  off  to  his  room  for  another 
revolver.  When  the  sailor  heard  the  shots,  he 
dropped  Tom,  and  ran  forward,  calling  out  that  he 
was  killed. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  Chips  ? "  Tom  asked  of  the  car- 
penter, who  was  leaning  against  the  main  fife  rail 
and  pulling  off  his  shirt. 

"I'm  hurt  just  enough  to  make  me  feel  good," 
replied  Chips.  "  I'll  have  that  Walsh  now,  if  I 
tear  the  cabin  out  of  her  with  my  finger  nails  to 
get  him.  See  if  you  can  fasten  him  in,  Tom,"  he 
added  in  a  whisper. 

Tom  ran  aft,  down  the  after-companion  and 
through  the  cabin.  He  found  the  key  in  the  out- 
side of  the  mate's  door,  and  his  hand  turned  just 


l6  TOM  BENTON'S   LUCK 

as  that  gentleman  tried  to  open  it.  Finding  him- 
self locked  in,  Mr.  Walsh  utilized  his  window  as  a 
port-hole,  through  which  he  wasted  considerable 
good  ammunition.  In  the  meantime  the  carpenter 
had  dragged  the  second  mate  into  the  shop  and 
lashed  him  to  the  leg  of  the  bench.  Tom  and 
Alec  now  held  a  council  of  war  to  decide  how  they 
should  dispose  of  the  mate.  It  wouldn't  do  to 
leave  him  loose  in  his  room,  because  he  would  take 
pot  shots  at  them  through  the  window  or  the  pan- 
els of  the  door.  There  was  no  danger  of  his  get- 
ing  out;  the  window  was  too  small,  and  the  inch 
and  a  half  oak  door  opened  inward.  They  could 
starve  him  out,  but  in  the  meantime  he  might  kill 
one  or  both  of  them.  Chips  was  busy  digging  a 
pistol  ball  out  of  the  fleshy  part  of  his  left  arm, 
and  gritting  his  teeth  to  show  that  he  enjoyed  the 
process.  Suddenly  looking  up,  he  said :  — 

"Tell  those  fellows  to  stretch  the  hose  along, 
Tom ;  we'll  drown  him  out." 

"Good  idea,"  replied  Tom.  He  went  forward 
and  found  the  crew  in  the  forecastle,  smoking,  and 
discussing  the  events  of  the  night.  He  stuck  his 
head  in  the  door,  and  called  out:  — 

"All  hands  on  deck  and  get  the  hose  along  — 
four  men  to  the  head  pump ! " 

"Who  say  so?"  asked  Russian  Finn  Jake. 

"  I  say  so,"  replied  Tom,  stoutly,  "  and  I'll  give 


A  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  17 

you  just  five  seconds  to  be  the  first  man  out,  or 
I'll—" 

"All  right,  sir,  I  comin',"  replied  Jake,  as,  with 
wonderful  alacrity,  he  snatched  the  end  of  the  hose 
from  the  reel  and  ran  aft  with  it.  As  he  passed 
the  corner  of  the  house,  a  shot  from  the  mate's 
revolver  whizzed  by  his  ear.  He  dropped  the  hose 
and  ran  forward,  but  Tom  made  him  come  back 
and  pull  off  as  much  hose  as  he  wanted.  All  this 
time  a  great  hammering  and  sawing  was  going  on 
in  the  carpenter  shop ;  so,  getting  the  mainmast  be- 
tween himself  and  the  enemy's  works,  Tom  went 
in.  The  second  mate  sat  on  the  deck,  with  his 
back  to  the  bench  and  glared  at  him.  Tom  didn't 
care  for  that,  but  when  the  villain  tried  to  kick  him 
unawares,  he  warned  him  to  look  out. 

"  Don't  talk  to  that  fellow,"  said  Alec.  "  If  he 
bothers  you,  take  an  axe  and  split  his  blasted 
head  open !  " 

"Why  Alec,  don't  be  so  bloodthirsty!  That 
would  be  using  them  worse  than  they  did  me." 

"Ho!  We've  done  that  already;  but  they 
deserve  it  —  the  pirates!" 

"  What  are  you  making  ?  " 

"You'll  see  directly.  Say,  Tom,  you'd  better 
keep  a  little  watch  on  the  crew;  there's  no 
knowing  what  they  may  be  up  to." 

"That's  so;   you're  right!"     And  Tom  returned 


18  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

to  the  deck.  They  need  not  have  feared  the  crew, 
for  all  hands  were  under  the  topgallant  forecastle. 
Not  a  man  of  them  had  the  least  desire  to  come 
aft.  The  cook  was  in  the  galley,  getting  breakfast 
as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Presently  the  car- 
penter brought  out  a  shutter,  or  shield,  made  of 
double  deck  plank.  It  was  about  eight  feet  long 
by  two  wide  and  six  inches  thick.  There  was  a 
two-inch  auger  hole  two  feet  from  one  end.  He 
called  four  men  and  made  them  carry  it  aft  on 
the  starboard  side  and  up  on  the  poop.  Then 
they  fastened  a  couple  of  rope's  ends  to  it  and  low- 
ered it  over  in  front  of  the  mate's  window,  but 
about  three  feet  away  from  it.  When  it  was  in 
place,  Alec  seized  the  nozzle  of  the  hose,  inserted 
it  in  the  hole,  and  cried  out :  — 

"  Fire  away,  Walsh  !  Fire  away  now,  you  thief ! 
I've  got  a  gun  too.  Come,  shake  up  that  pump  ! 
Shake  it  up,  or  I'll  come  forward  there  an'  set 
some  of  ye  up  in  the  boot  an'  shoe  business !  " 

The  men  needed  no  urging.  They  understood 
what  was  going  on,  and  such  an  opportunity  to 
get  square  with  a  mate  had  never  been  presented 
to  any  of  them  before.  The  pump  was  double 
banked,  and  the  handles  flew  merrily,  hitting 
the  deck  at  every  stroke  like  the  windlass 
brakes  of  a  homeward  bounder.  A  three-quarter- 
inch  stream  of  water  that  would  take  a  man  off 


A   FIGHT  IN  THE   DARK  19 

his  feet  went  flying  through  the  window  into  the 
little  seven  by  nine  stateroom.  The  carpenter,  who 
seemed  to  feel  no  annoyance  from  his  wound, 
worked  the  nozzle  so  as  to  completely  drench  the 
room.  A  few  ineffectual  shots  were  fired  into  the 
six-inch  shutter,  then  smothered  curses  were  heard, 
as,  half  strangled,  the  mate  sought  to  evade  the 
drowning  stream. 

"  Bern  him !  I  guess  his  powder  is  wet,"  said 
Alec. 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth,  when 
a  crashing  blow  was  delivered  on  the  inside  of  the 
door. 

"  Oho  !  It's  axes  now,  hey  ?  Here,  Tom,  you 
take  the  nozzle  an'  keep  it  a  wigglin',  while  I 
stand  by  to  catch  him  as  he  comes  out ! " 


CHAPTER   II 

TOM     TRIUMPHANT A     WORD     TO     THE     CREW  —  THE 

PRISONERS    RESCUED — THE    "COLUMBIA"    ARRIVES 

THE  mate  was  furious,  but  weak.  Disconcerted 
as  he  was  by  the  drenching,  and  hampered  by  the 
darkness  of  his  room,  he  made  slow  progress  batter- 
ing down  the  heavy  door ;  for  only  about  one  blow 
in  three  hit  it  at  all,  and  those  were  wild  and  had 
but  little  steam  behind  them.  The  carpenter  waited 
for  him,  well  out  of  range,  with  a  spare  gasket. 

Presently  the  door  gave  way  with  a  crash.  Like 
a  half-drowned  rat  Walsh  floundered  out,  groping 
wildly  and  gasping  for  breath.  Before  he  recovered, 
the  carpenter  was  upon  him,  and  had  him  tied. 

"'Vast  pumpin'!  That'll  do  the  water,"  cried 
Chips. 

Tom  dropped  the  nozzle,  passed  the  word  along 
to  the  men  to  "'vast  pumpin',"  and  went  to  Alec's 
assistance.  Together  they  dragged  the  mate,  curs- 
ing, gasping,  and  threatening,  to  the  mizzenmast, 
where  they  lashed  him  fast.  Tom  told  him  to  stop 
his  noise,  or  he  would  gag  him.  The  threat  had  the 
desired  effect,  for  after  a  while  he  relapsed  into 

20 


THE   PRISONERS  RESCUED  21 

sullen  silence.  Tom  told  Alec  to  order  all  hands  to 
lay  aft.  They  came  straggling  along,  hitching  up 
their  trousers,  and  glancing  furtively  from  side  to 
side.  They  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  obeying  the 
orders  of  this  boy  who  but  yesterday  was  their 
forecastle  drudge.  When  they  had  all  tumbled 
together  abaft  the  mainmast,  he  made  them  a  little 
speech. 

"Men,"  said  he,  "when  my  father  died,  he  left 
me  in  charge  of  this  ship,  of  which  he  was  master 
and  part  owner.  He  told  Mr.  Walsh  and  Mr. 
Wilkins  that  I  was  to  take  her  home;  and  that  they 
should  obey  me  as  they  had  him.  You  have  seen 
what  they  did  to  me,  but  you  do  not  know  that 
they  intended  to  wreck  her  and  sell  the  wreckage, 
thereby  not  only  robbing  the  owners,  but  cheating 
you  out  of  your  hard-earned  wages  as  well.  You 
have  seen  how  they  changed  the  course  three  days 
ago.  That  was  for  the  purpose  of  running  her 
onto  one  of  the  Leeward  Islands.  I  have  regained 
charge  of  my  father's  ship,  with  the  assistance  of 
Mr.  Webb,  who  will  be  my  mate,  and  shall  take 
her  home.  You  will  not  be  required  to  do  any- 
thing but  the  necessary  work  to  get  her  there ;  you 
will  have  watch  and  watch  from  now  on,  and  will 
get  the  best  grub  there  is  aboard.  Relieve  the 
wheel,  port  watch  !  Starboard  watch,  go  below !  " 

They    hesitated    a    moment,    and   the    Norwegian 


22  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

who  had  grappled  with  Tom  during  the  melee 
stepped  a  pace  to  the  front,  and  said :  — 

"Veil,  ma  hoi'  on;  ve  like  to  know  a  little  more 
about  dis  — " 

"  There's  only  one  thing  more  that  it's  necessary 
for  you  to  know,"  interrupted  Tom,  pointing  his 
ringer  at  the  fellow  while  his  eyes  snapped  omi- 
nously, "  and  that  is,  that  any  man  who  fails  in  his 
duty  will  be  attended  to  by  Mr.  Webb  and  myself." 

"  Oho,  so  ?  " 

"Yes,  just  so!  Another  thing  for  you  to  remem- 
ber is,  that  we  have  handles  to  our  names ;  and 
you'll  have  to  use  them.  Don't  think  for  a  moment 
that  because  I  have  promised  to  treat  you  well  I 
am  afraid  of  you,  or  that  discipline  will  be  relaxed 
in  the  slightest  degree.  That's  all!  Go  forrard  !  " 

The  faces  of  some  of  them  were  a  -study  as  they 
retreated  discontentedly.  The  "  snap  "  they  had 
expected  to  obtain  from  the  new  administration 
was  not  forthcoming.  There  was  to  be  no  coun- 
cil of  all  hands.  Their  advice  was  not  wanted ; 
would  not  be  tolerated.  No  matter  who  was  cap- 
tain, they  were  nothing  but  common  jacks.  After 
they  were  gone,  Tom  and  Mr.  Webb  looked  after 
their  prisoners.  They  ironed  them  with  their 
hands  behind  their  backs.  Then  they  cut  pieces 
of  chain  and  fastened  the  second  mate  to  the  car- 
penter's bench,  and  the  mate  to  the  mizzenmast  in 


THE   PRISONERS  RESCUED  23 

the  forward  cabin.  They  relieved  the  second  mate 
of  his  gag,  —  for  which  he  was  profoundly  thank- 
ful, —  and  Tom  told  them  both  that,  if  they  be- 
haved themselves  and  gave  no  extra  trouble,  they 
should  have  chairs  to  sit  in  during  the  day,  and 
their  own  bedding  at  night.  He  fed  them  from 
the  cabin  table  and  gave  them  two  hours'  exercise 
daily,  one  in  the  forenoon  and  one  in  the  after- 
noon. 

The  mate  remained  surly  and  vicious  to  the  end; 
but  on  the  third  day  Wilkins  expressed  a  desire  to 
confess.  After  a  consultation  with  Mr.  Webb,  it 
was  decided  to  allow  him  to  confess  in  the  pres- 
ence of  all  hands,  who  should  sign  the  confession 
as  witnesses.  Wilkins  demurred  to  this,  alleging 
that  he  feared  the  crew;  but  on  Tom's  assurance 
that  he  should -be  protected  he  finally  agreed.  On 
the  fourth  day  after  the  recapture  of  the  ship  all 
hands  were  called  aft,  and  Wilkins,  seated  in  a 
chair  on  the  break  of  the  poop,  between  Tom  and 
Alec,  while  the  crew  remained  down  on  the  main 
deck,  confessed  as  follows:  — 

"  The  night  after  Captain  Benton  died,  Mr.  Walsh 
called  me  into  his  room  and  asked  me  if  I  was  as 
good  as  I  was  big.  I  thought  he  wanted  to  fight 
me,  and  I  says,  'Why,  what's  the  matter,  Mr. 
Walsh  ? '  '  I  want  to  know,'  says  he,  '  if  you  are  a 
game  man.'  'Well,  I  don't  know,  sir,  what  you 


24  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

might  call  game,'  says  I,  '  but  I've  been  second 
and  third  mate  of  some  ships  as  wasn't  exactly 
Sunday  Schools,'  says  I.  'Oh!'  says  he,  'you 
don't  understand.  What  I  mean  is,  are  you  game 
for  a  big  job  ?  Here's  a  fine  ship,'  says  he,  '  an' 
I'm  cap'n  of  her  —  I  don't  care  nothing  about  that 
kid ;  you  know  a  cap'n  can  do  what  he  likes 
with  his  ship.  If  he  should  take  a  notion  to  sell 
ship  an'  cargo  instead  of  takin'  'em  home,  the 
owners  can  go  an'  whistle.  It's  only  a  breach  o' 
trust,  an'  they  can't  do  nothing  to  ye.'  Of  course 
I  tumbled  right  away.  *  What  do  ye  want  me  to 
do  ? '  says  I.  '  Only  to  put  half  o'  this  ship  an' 
cargo  in  yer  pocket,'  says  he,  '  the  same  as  I'm  a 
goin'  to  do  with  the  other  half.' 

"  I  was  a  bit  flabbergastered  at  first,  it  was  so 
sudden,  but  we  talked  it  over  a  good  deal,  an'  I 
made  up  my  mind  that,  as  long  as  he  was  bound 
to  do  it  I  couldn't  stop  him,  an'  I'd  be  a  fool  not 
to  take  half.  At  first  we  decided  to  take  her  into 
St.  Thomas,  an'  sell  her  there.  Then  as  we  talked 
it  over,  Mr.  Walsh  said  there  was  so  much  longi- 
tude to  make  to  get  to  St.  Thomas  that  just  as 
like  as  not  he'd  pile  her  up  on  some  of  these 
blasted  little  nigger  islands  before  he  got  there ; 
'cause  he  said  he  wasn't  an  expert  at  longitude. 
But  we  decided  that  even  if  we  had  such  bad 
luck  as  that,  we'd  probably  be  able  to  sell  the 


THE   PRISONERS  RESCUED  25 

wreck  at  a  good  figure,  so  we  commenced  to  look 
at  it  in  that  light.  Then  one  day  I  asked  him  how 
it  would  be  if  we  happened  to  run  across  a  man- 
o'-war  in  St.  Thomas.  '  By  gum !  '  says  he,  '  I 
never  thought  o'  that !  The  kid  would  get  in  his 
fine  work  there  sure,  and  we  daresn't  kill  him 
neither.  I  don't  know  but  they'd  make  it  out 
piracy.'  So  then  we  commenced  to  figger  out  a 
new  plan,  an'  what  we  finally  agreed  on  was,  to 
beach  her  on  one  of  the  Virgin  Islands,  get  the 
crew,  all  but  ourselves,  into  the  longboat  with 
enough  dead  weight  in  her  in  the  shape  of  provis- 
ions to  sink  her,  and  then  shoot  her  full  of  holes 
from  the  ship's  rail.  If  any  of  the  men  tried  to 
swim  ashore  or  to  climb  aboard  we  would  shoot 
them.  Then  we  would  get  out  one  of  the  small 
boats  and  go  to  St.  Thomas,  where  we  would 
either  sell  the  wreck  or  bring  back  help  to  get 
her  off,  according  to  how  badly  she  was  fixed. 
There  wouldn't  be  any  witnesses  against  us,  and 
we  would  say  that  the  crew  had  cleared  out  in  the 
longboat."  He  raised  his  face  to  the  heavens  and 
added:  "  That's  the  truth,  so  help  me  God!" 

When  Wilkins  concluded  his  tale  of  villany,  Jake 
made  a  short  but  violent  harangue  to  the  crew  in 
Scandinavian.  With  a  ferocious  shout  they  started 
for  the  cabin  door  to  get  at  Walsh.  Mr.  Webb 
leaped  over  the  rail,  and,  dropping  on  deck  in  front 


26  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

of  them,  interposed  his  burly  form  in  the  doorway  ; 
while  Tom,  dragging  Wilkins  after  him,  ran  down 
the  after-companion  and  reenforced  Mr.  Webb  with 
two  pairs  of  revolvers.  The  men  were  raving  out  on 
deck,  and  swearing  in  a  mixture  of  English  and 
Swedish  that  they  would  hang  Walsh.  Tom  and 
Mr.  Webb,  being  now  armed,  stepped  boldly  out 
among  them.  Tom  argued  with  them.  He  re- 
minded them  that  Mr.  Webb  and  himself  had  dis- 
covered the  plot,  and  without  any  assistance  from 
them  had  retaken  the  ship.  He  guaranteed  that  the 
prisoners  should  be  tried  by  due  process  of  law,  and 
asked  the  men  to  go  forward. 

"  Not  till  ve  get  dot  Valsh,"  yelled  the  Norwegian. 

Tom  partly  lost  his  temper.  "  If  any  one  of  you 
enters  this  cabin,"  he  shouted,  "  I'll  shoot  him  !  " 

"  Shoot  an'  be  hanged!  "  came  from  the  crowd  in 
a  howling  chorus.  "  You  ain't  no  better  vat  dey  are 
you'self  !  " 

That  made  him  mad  altogether.  He  clubbed  his 
revolvers,  and  Mr.  Webb  following  suit,  they  ran 
forward  at  a  gallop,  delivering  several  stinging  blows 
as  they  ran. 

"  If  I  had  a  cannon  I'd  blow  the  bows  out  of  her. 
We  have  to  fight  all  hands  fore  an'  aft,"  said  Tom 
as  they  were  returning  aft. 

"  You're  feeding  them  too  high  ;  they  can't  stand 
it,"  was  Mr.  Webb's  answer. 


THE   PRISONERS  RESCUED  2/ 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  I  don't  believe  you're  right," 
said  Tom;  "  111  shorten  up  on  their  grub  to- 
morrow." 

He  carefully  wrote  down  Wilkins'  confession,  and, 
after  reading  it  to  him  and  getting  his  signature,  he 
made  all  hands  sign  it.  As  he  was  returning  to  the 
after-cabin  with  it,  Walsh  asked  him  to  take  a  kink 
out  of  his  chain,  as  it  was  hurting  him.  When  Tom 
got  near  enough,  the  mate  snatched  the  paper  from 
him  and  tore  it  up.  Then  he  had  it  all  to  do  over 
again.  Fearing  the  crew  might  surprise  them,  as 
they  still  acted  ugly,  they  removed  the  prisoners  to 
the  lazaret,  and  never  again  went  on  deck  un- 
armed. 

Tom  eagerly  sought  the  track  chart.  He  thought 
Walsh  might  possibly  have  been  bright  enough  to 
refrain  from  pricking  the  course  on  it.  So  he  was 
pleased  on  finding  that  the  mate  had  possessed  no 
such  forethought.  He  had  not  only  pricked  the 
course  made,  but  had  traced  a  course  to  St.  Thomas, 
with  various  branches  to  several  islets  in  the  neigh- 
borhood ;  thus  furnishing  abundant  proof  of  his  evil 
designs.  Tom  had  a  job  teaching  Mr.  Webb  to  note 
chronometer  time.  It  took  him  two  hours  to  master 
it  at  all,  and  then  he  was  so  unreliable  that  Tom  de- 
cided to  make  a  landfall  and  obtain  a  new  departure. 
As  they  were  farther  north  than  he  expected,  he  con- 
tinued on  the  westerly  course,  to  the  crew's  surprise, 


28  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

until  he  raised  Turk's  Island.  He  then  set  a  course 
that  would  bring  them  into  the  Gulf  Stream,  and 
having  thoroughly  subdued  the  crew,  they  proceeded 
without  further  incident  to  Portland. 


CHAPTER   III 

"BULLY  BLAKE"  —KITTY  —  THE  "SPRITE"  —AN  UN- 
SYMPATHETIC RECEPTION  —  ALEC  SIZES  UP  THE  OLD 
MAN  AND  GIVES  TOM  SOME  ADVICE A  VERY  PLEAS- 
ANT DAY A  WET  BLANKET BULLY  BLAKE  SHOWS 

HIS    TEETH TOM    FINDS    HIMSELF    FRIENDLESS 

ONE  bright  June  morning,  Captain  Rufus  Blake 
was  busily  scanning  letters  in  his  private  office. 
He  was  a  rather  short,  square  man,  with  thick 
grizzled  hair,  beetling  brows  and  a  firm  jaw.  He 
was  now  senior  captain  and  manager  of  a  line  of 
sailing-vessels,  mostly  employed  in  the  trade  be- 
tween Portland,  Maine,  and  South  American  ports. 
While  at  sea  he  had  earned  the  nickname  of  "  Bully 
Blake,"  and  though  it  stuck  ^to  him  as  nicknames 
will,  he  was  now  so  eminently  respectable  that  it 
was  never  applied  to  him  openly.  It  was  only 
used  by  the  disgruntled,  behind  his  back,  for  Cap- 
tain Blake  was  powerful  as  well  as  respectable. 

His  daughter  and  only  child,  Kitty,  stood  near 
him  watching  from  the  window  the  busy  scene  on 
the  wharf  below,  where  stevedores  "wrestled"  with 
heavy  bales,  boxes,  and  barrels  ;  while  truckmen,  who 

29 


30  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

were  continually  bringing  or  taking  away  the  valu- 
able merchandise,  drove  their  horses  recklessly 
among  the  men.  The  result  was  an  interchange 
of  billingsgate  that  would  have  terribly  shocked 
almost  any  other  young  person;  but  Kitty  Blake 
had  been  familiar  with  it  all  her  life.  She  disliked 
it,  of  course,  but  would  have  been  surprised  at 
missing  it.  It  was  to  her  merely  a  natural  adjunct 
of  the  scene;  as  much  so  as  the  red  flannel  shirts 
and  soiled  and  ragged  overalls. 

She  was  quite  a  slip  of  a  girl,  fifteen  years  of 
age,  rather  tall,  quick,  and  active.  Her  brown 
cheeks  and  bright  eyes  told  a  tale  of  robust  health, 
due  to  abundant  out-door  exercise.  As  she  stood 
there,  an  occasional  sidelong  glance  at  her  father, 
and  a  nervous  tapping  of  her  toe,  indicated  her 
impatience  at  being  shut  up  in  the  stuffy  office 
on  such  a  glorious  morning.  But  Captain  Blake 
had  said :  "  Come  down  to  the  office,  Kate ;  I  may 
want  you,"  and  that  was  an  order. 

The  office  door  opened  noiselessly,  and  the  obse- 
quious head  clerk,  with  a  grimace  intended  for  a 
smile,  reported :  "  The  Columbia  is  in  the  offing,  sir, 
—  colors  at  half-mast." 

"All  right!"  snapped  Captain  Blake. 

"  Oh,  papa ! "  exclaimed  Kitty,  with  a  startled, 
half-frightened  air,  "  what  do  you  suppose  can  be 
the  matter  aboard  the  Columbia?" 


TOM   FINDS   HIMSELF   FRIENDLESS  $1 

"  How  do  you  s'pose  I  know  ?  I  ain't  there,  am 
I  ? "  He  looked  at  his  watch  a  moment,  closed 
it  with  a  snap,  and  remarked  :  "  Let's  see ;  it  wants 
an  hour  yet  of  low  water.  She'll  not  gain  much, 
beating  against  wind  and  tide;  guess  I'll  get  a 
tug  and  board  her." 

"You  needn't  get  a  tug,  papa,"  interjected  Kitty; 
"  the  Sprite  lies  right  here  at  the  wharf,  and  I  can 
set  you  aboard  quicker  than  you  could  go  with  a 
tug." 

"  All  right  then,  come  along  and  bear  a  hand," 
replied  the  old  fellow,  quickly,  the  cheapness  of 
the  method  appealing  to  his  economical  sense. 
"  Benton's  made  a  long  passage,"  he  continued ;  "  I 
wonder  what's  the  trouble.  Yeller  Jack,  I  s'pose; 
what  do  they  let  their  men  go  ashore  for?  I  never 
did.  Let  'em  have  plenty  of  scrapin'  and  scrubbin' 
when  there's  no  cargo  alongside,  and  yeller  Jack 
won't  trouble  'em.  He  ought  to  have  been  here 
a  week  ago,"  he  added  to  himself  as  he  stumped 
surlily  at  Kitty's  side,  who,  now  that  she  was  in 
the  open  air  and  bound  for  a  sail  in  her  beloved 
Sprite,  was  all  animation  and  "  kinks,"  as  her  father 
said.  The  trim  little  sloop  yacht  was  rubbing  her 
nose  contentedly  against  the  piles  when  they  stepped 
aboard.  The  Sprite  was  Kitty's  treasure,  her  one 
ewe  lamb.  Captain  Blake  had  bought  her  at  a 
bargain  the  previous  season,  and  Kitty  had  at 


32  TOM   BENTON'S  LUCK 

once  developed  into  an  expert  and  ardent  yachts- 
woman. The  Sprite  was  the  last  pleasure  craft 
to  be  laid  up  in  the  fall,  she  was  thoroughly  over- 
hauled and  painted  during  the  winter,  and  the  first 
out  in  the  spring.  Kitty  passed  a  great  part  of 
her  time  sailing  the  little  craft,  sometimes  with  a 
merry  party  of  friends,  but  oftener  alone,  cruising 
round  the  many  islands  in  the  harbor,  or,  animated 
by  the  spirit  of  discovery,  investigating  every  bay 
and  inlet  for  miles  around.  It  was  only  her 
father's  order  that  had  kept  her  ashore  on  this 
occasion.  She  knew  the  Columbia  was  overdue, 
and  had  planned  a  long  sail  seaward  on  the  ebb 
tide  in  search  of  her. 

Captain  Blake  seated  himself  ponderously  in  the 
stern  sheets,  thereby  raising  her  bow  nearly  out  of 
water,  while  Kitty,  with  the  dexterity  born  of  long 
practice,  cast  off  the  painter  and  shoved  off. 

She  hauled  her  jib  to  windward  until  the  boat's 
head  paid  off  sufficiently,  and  then,  hauling  aft  the 
jib  and  main  sheets,  was  off  like  a  lamplighter. 
The  stern  and  silent  man  was  a  grim  contrast  to 
the  vivacious  girl  at  his  side,  full  of  life  and  the 
enjoyment  that  comes  of  youth,  health,  and  the 
pursuit  of  a  favorite  pastime. 

As  the  birdlike  craft  came  opposite  the  street 
openings  on  her  way  out  of  the  harbor,  vicious  little 
puffs  would  heel  her  almost  to  the  capsizing  point 


TOM   FINDS   HIMSELF  FRIENDLESS  33 

Being  in  such  bad  trim,  she  was  inclined  to  toss 
her  head  off  the  wind ;  but  Kitty  had  not  been  sail- 
ing there  all  summer  for  nothing.  She  knew  just 
where  at  each  street  she  would  first  feel  the  puff. 
Easing  her  jib  sheet,  she  would  give  her  just  a 
hint  of  lee  helm.  The  luff  of  the  mainsail  would 
shiver,  as,  like  a  lady  on  a  ballroom  floor,  the  Sprite 
would  skim  safely  across  the  treacherous  spot. 
Captain  Blake  said  nothing,  but  he  saw  it  all. 

As  they  drew  out  clear  of  Cape  Elizabeth,  they 
made  out  the  Columbia  six  or  eight  miles  to  lee- 
ward on  the  port  tack,  ensign  at  half-mast.  Kitty 
decided  that  the  ship  would  tack  within  the  next 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes.  So,  instead  of  heading 
for  her,  she  shaped  a  course  that  would  intercept 
her  on  her  return.  Her  father  observed  and  un- 
derstood this  also,  but  made  no  comment;  he  sat 
silently  watching  the  ship  with  her  emblem  of 
mourning. 

Kitty's  judgment  proved  to  be  correct ;  the  ship 
tacked  just  where  she  had  expected  her  to.  The 
Sprite  sped  merrily  on  her  course,  throwing  the 
spray  far  out  to  leeward  and  leaving  a  wake  like  a 
steamer.  She  crossed  the  Columbia  s  bow  a  good 
cable-length  ahead,  rounded  to  under  her  lee,  and 
with  helm  amidships  and  sails  flapping  dropped  in 
alongside  in  such  a  masterly  manner,  that  even 
Captain  Rufus  felt  constrained  to  grunt  a  grudg- 


34  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

ing:  "Not  bad!  Not  bad  at  all!"  which  was  more 
gratifying  than  a  gold  medal  to  Kitty. 

Tom  saw  and  recognized  the  Sprite  as  soon  as 
she  stuck  her  nose  round  the  cape.  It  was  he  who 
had  given  Kitty  her  first  lesson  in  handling  the 
little  craft,  and  many  a  jolly  sail  had  the  boy  and 
girl  enjoyed  in  her  when  the  Columbia  was  in  port. 
He  had  a  man  ready  in  the  fore-chains  with  a  heav- 
ing-line,  and  two  more  getting  the  side  ladder  over. 
Kitty  caught  the  line  and  dropped  in  alongside ; 
Captain  Blake  ascended  slowly,  as  befitted  his  rank 
and  avoirdupois.  Kitty  skipped  lightly  up  the  lad- 
der, and  dropped  like  a  sparrow  on  deck,  in  time 
to  hear  her  father  ask  Tom  where  Captain  Benton 
was. 

"My  father  died  at  sea,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  sadly. 
"We  buried  him  off  Cape  St.  Roque." 

"Who  is  that?     The  pilot?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Where  is  the  mate?" 

"After  father  died,  the  mates  attempted  to  wreck 
the  ship  in  the  West  Indies,  sir;  the  carpenter  and 
I  took  her  from  them  and  brought  her  home.  They 
are  below  in  irons." 

"  Humph  !  hoist  the  police  flag  !  " 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

Without  a  word  of  thanks  or  commendation  to 
the  boy,  who,  at  the  imminent  risk  of  his  life,  had 


TOM   FINDS    HIMSELF   FRIENDLESS  35 

saved  his  ship  and  brought  her  home,  Captain 
Blake  dived  into  the  cabin  to  look  at  the  manifest ; 
and  remained  there  overhauling  the  ship's  papers 
until  the  pilot  let  go  her  anchor. 

The  instant  her  father's  head  disappeared  below 
the  companion  slide,  Kitty  took  both  of  Tom's 
hands  in  her  own,  and  with  tears  rolling  down  her 
brown  cheeks,  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Tom,  I'm  so  sorry." 

Tom  could  hardly  restrain  his  own  feelings ;  but 
he  gulped  hard  and  winked  fast. 

"This  has  been  an  awful  passage,  Kitty,"  said 
he  — "  awful !  It  seems  years  since  father  died ; 
and  I  have  been  through  everything  but  death 
since.  I  feel  like  an  old  man.  If  Mr.  Webb 
hadn't  stood  by  me,  we  should  all  have  been  dead 
long  ago  —  murdered  by  the  mates.  Then  the 
crew  tried  to  get  the  upper  hand  of.  us,  and  I 
haven't  had  a  wink  of  sound  sleep  for  the  last  ten 
days.  Your  father  may  thank  the  carpenter  that 
the  ship  ever  got  here.  I  couldn't  have  done  any- 
thing alone.  See  ;  this  is  the  way  we've  had  to  go." 
He  threw  back  his  pea  jacket  and  showed  the  two 
revolvers. 

"  Why,  you  poor  boy !  I  should  think  you  have 
had  a  hard  time.  You  must  take  a  good  long  sleep 
the  first  thing  you  do,  or  you  will  be  sick.  Then, 
after  you  get  all  rested,  we'll  go  sailing  again  as 
we  used  to.  I've  found  a  regular  cave  on  a  little 


36  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

island  about  twenty  miles  to  the  eastward.  I  took 
down  some  dishes,  and  often  play  house  down 
there  all  day  by  myself.  I'll  take  you  down  some 
day  if  you're  a  good  boy ;  we'll  take  some  provi- 
sions along,  and  you  can  take  your  hooks  and  lines 
so  as  to  catch  fish  for  the  table,  and  we'll  have  a 
regular  dinner.  Won't  that  be  nice  ?  How  do  you 
like  the  Sprite?  Papa  let  me  have  her  all  painted 
up  just  as  I  wanted  her.  Don't  you  think  she 
looks  fine  ?  That  gold  stripe  alone  cost  ten  dollars." 

Tom  smiled  at  her  attempt  to  make  him  forget 
his  troubles.  He  admired  the  Sprite's  new  paint, 
praised  her  taste  in  the  choice  of  colors  and  style, 
and  promised  to  visit  her  cave  at  an  early  day. 

"I  wonder  what  will  become  of  me  now?"  he 
asked.  "  Father  was  going  to  ship  me  third  mate 
next  voyage;  but  now  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  go 
before  the  mast,  and  consider  myself  lucky  to  get 
even  that." 

Kitty's  eyes  opened  very  wide  indeed.  "  Before 
the  mast !  "  she  cried.  "  Well,  I  guess  not ;  papa 
will  surely  appoint  you  captain  of  the  Columbia 
after  all  you  have  gone  through  to  bring  her  home." 

Tom  could  not  refrain  from  laughing  at  her 
enthusiasm.  "  Why,  they  don't  make  seventeen- 
year-old  boys  captains  of  ships,"  he  replied. 

"  I  don't  see  why  not,  if  they're  able.  You 
brought  her  home,  didn't  you  ?  I'm  sure  no  regular 


TOM   FINDS   HIMSELF  FRIENDLESS  37 

captain  could  do  any  more  than  that,  and  some  of 
them  don't  even  do  as  well." 

Before  Tom  had  a  chance  to  say  more,  Captain 
Blake  came  on  deck  and  told  Kitty  he  was  ready 
to  go  ashore.  "When  the  police  get  here,  if  they 
ever  do,  turn  your  prisoners  over  to  them,"  he 
said  shortly  to  Tom. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  Tom  replied. 

As  Kitty  was  going  over  the  rail,  she  told  Tom 
she  should  expect  him  to  dinner  as  soon  as  the  ship 
got  to  her  berth. 

"Come,  come,  I'm  in  a  hurry!"  said  Captain 
Blake.  "  Mr.  Benton  will  have  no  time  to  come  up 
to  the  house  for  dinner,"  he  added  inhospitably.  Tom 
felt  hurt  by  both  his  words  and  manner,  for  he  had 
always  been  a  welcome  guest  at  the  Blake  home, 
but  now  he  felt  that  somehow  things  were  changed. 

Six  weeks  later,  Mr.  Walsh  was  sentenced  to 
twenty  years  at  hard  labor  in  State  prison.  Mr. 
Wilkins,  having  turned  State's  evidence,  got  off  with 
five.  After  the  trial,  the  carpenter,  hearing  that  his 
father  was  dangerously  ill,  asked  for  his  pay.  He 
got  it,  and  that  was  all,  with  nothing  whatever  in 
return  for  his  extraordinary  services,  though  Tom 
had  enlarged  on  them  in  court,  and  at  every  possible 
opportunity.  Before  he  left  for  home,  he  bade  Tom 
an  affectionate  good-bye  and  warned  him  to  look  out 
for  Bully  Blake.  "  I  tell  you,"  said  he,  while  his 


38  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

eyes  flashed  with  just  anger,  "  he's  no  good  !  He'll 
get  the  best  of  you  if  you  don't  watch  him.  I  called 
on  him  and  told  him  I  was  going  home  —  thought 
maybe  he'd  forgotten  himself,  you  know,  and  I'd  give 
him  a  chance  to  remember.  What  do  you  s'pose  he 
said  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

"'Well,  what  of  it?'  That's  all  he  said  — not 
another  word.  And  I  says,  '  Nothin',  you  blasted 
ol'  hunks ;  I  only  just  stepped  in  to  tell  ye  so  ye 
wouldn't  worry  for  fear  I'd  got  lost.'  An'  he 
never  turned  a  hair.  Oh,  he's  tougher  nor  whale 
meat.  Well,  be  good,  Tom.  I  may  run  across  ye 
sometime  again.  Be  sure  and  keep  your  weather  eye 
skinned  for  old  Blake.  He's  the  worst  I  ever  saw." 

Tom  felt  a  sense  of  great  loneliness  come  over  him 
when  honest  Alec  left.  The  last  of  the  old  ties  was 
broken,  and  hereafter  he  would  have  to  depend  en- 
tirely on  himself.  He  was  left  in  charge  of  the  ship, 
but  after  the  cargo  was  discharged,  he  had  little  to 
do ;  business  was  dull,  and  the  outward-bound  cargo 
arrived  very  slowly.  Kitty  frequently  came  down 
and  carried  him  off  for  a  sail.  He  knew  he  ought 
not  to  go,  but  how  was  a  fellow  to  resist  when 
coaxed  so  hard  to  do  the  very  thing  he  particularly 
wished  to  ?  The  ship  could  watch  herself,  so  Tom 
and  Kitty  passed  many  a  pleasant  afternoon  on  the 
Sprite,  skimming  over  the  smooth  water  of  the  bay, 


TOM   FINDS   HIMSELF   FRIENDLESS  39 

racing    with    other    small    craft,    and    visiting    the 
islands. 

One  day  she  told  him  her  father  had  gone  to  Bath 
to  look  at  a  new  vessel.  She  proposed  that  they 
should  go  for  a  sail  during  the  afternoon,  and  that 
he  should  take  dinner  with  her  at  the  house  on  their 
return.  Her  father  was  not  expected  back  until 
the  following  day,  and  she  had  lots  of  things  to 
show  him,  —  pictures,  books,  and  games.  There 
was  no  freight  alongside  nor  any  expected,  so  Tom 
readily  agreed.  They  had  a  splendid  time ;  they 
raced  with  a  little  snub-nosed  tug  and  got  beaten, 
and  they  called  at  the  light-house  and  were 
treated  to  cold  milk  and  pumpkin  pie  by  the 
keeper's  wife,  who  knew  and  admired  Kitty.  The 
keeper  himself  was  a  superannuated  captain,  who 
had  sailed  with  Captain  Blake  years  ago.  They 
kept  bees  in  their  little  reservation,  and  Kitty  never 
tired  of  watching  the  busy  little  insects  and  listen- 
ing to  motherly  old  Mrs.  Kimberly's  tales  of  their 
wonderful  sagacity.  But  time  was  flying,  so  they 
reembarked  and  took  a  long  cruise  outside  the  island 
where  the  long  Atlantic  swells  made  the  little  Sprite 
jump  and  rear  like  a  spirited  colt.  They  boarded 
a  fisherman,  and  the  captain  gave  them  half  a  dozen 
fresh  mackerel  for  their  supper.  They  told  stories, 
sang  songs,  and  enjoyed  themselves  as  only  boys 
and  girls  without  a  care  can. 


40  TOM  BENTON'S   LUCK 

When  they  judged  that  it  wanted  about  an  hour 
of  sundown,  they  started  for  Portland  and  dinner; 
their  appetites  sharpened  to  a  razor  edge  by  the 
salt  air.  It  was  a  dead  head  wind,  but  the  tide 
was  with  them,  and  Kitty  astonished  Tom  by  her 
knowledge  of  the  currents  in  the  bay.  When  he 
supposed  they  were  off  for  a  three-mile  tack,  she 
would  shout  merrily :  "  Ha-a-ard  alee ! "  jam  her 
tiller  down,  and  bring  the  boat  round  spinning. 
Then  when  Tom  asked  in  surprise  why  she  had 
tacked  so  soon,  she  would  show  him  a  counter-cur- 
rent that  would  have  set  them  half  a  mile  to  lee- 
ward if  she  had  allowed  the  Sprite  to  enter  it,  and 
go  off  into  a  long  technical  explanation  of  the 
set,  strength,  and  direction  of  the  various  currents 
at  this  time  of  tide,  that  would  have  done  credit  to 
the  oldest  pilot  in  the  port.  Tom  listened  in  ad- 
miration, amazement,  and  something  of  awe. 

"  How  many  more  tacks  will  I  have  to  make  to 
get  in,  Tom  ? "  Tom  measured  the  distance  crit- 
ically with  his  eye,  took  plenty  of  time  to  think  it 
over,  and  answered,  "  Four."  Kitty  laughed  at  him. 

"Can  you  do  it  in  four?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  he  ;  "  I'd  be  very  well  satisfied  to 
do  it  in  six ;  but  you  know  the  water  so  well,  I  ex- 
pect you  to  do  lots  better  than  I  could.  I'll  give 
you  five.  If  you  do  it  in  five  tacks,  you'll  do  better 
even  than  I  think  you  can." 


TOM    FINDS    HIMSELF   FRIENDLESS  41 

"  Suppose  I  do  it  in  three  ?  " 

"Oh,  you  can't!" 

"  I  can't,  hey  ?  Well,  now,  I'll  show  you,  Mr. 
Deepwater,  that  there  are  some  things  you  don't 
learn  at  sea.  I'm  going  to  Portland  on  the  next 
tack." 

"  Nonsense,  Kitty,  you  won't  come  within  two 
miles  of  it  on  the  next  tack." 

"Well,  all  right,  you'll  see  — Hard  alee!" 

She  tacked,  but  never  let  the  sails  fill,  and 
barely  kept  steerageway  on  her.  The  Sprite  lay 
there  with  her  sails  shivering,  and  Tom  thought 
she  had  missed  stays.  He  was  going  to  put  out 
an  oar  and  swing  the  boat's  head  off  the  wind, 
when  Kitty  cried  merrily :  — 

"  If  you  don't  sit  down,  Tom  Benton,  I'll  put 
you  in  irons  as  you  did  the  mates  of  the  Columbia. 
I'm  captain  here." 

Tom  laughed,  said,  "  All  right,  Cap',  excuse  me, 
I  thought  you  had  your  ship  in  irons,"  and  sat 
down.  He  soon  saw  what  she  was  doing.  She 
had  got  into  a  regular  millrace,  and  was  holding 
the  Sprite  in  it,  while  it  swept  her  to  windward 
like  a  steamer. 

"I  declare,  Kitty,"  said  Tom,  when  he  saw  that 
she  was  making  good  her  promise  to  go  to  Port- 
land on  that  tack,  "you  are  wasting  your  time 
sailing  this  dingy.  You  ought  to  apply  for  a 


42  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

pilot's  license.  Why,  if  old  Jordan  had  known  as 
much  about  this  harbor  as  you  do,  the  Columbia 
would  have  been  at  anchor  two  hours  sooner  than 
she  was,  the  other  day." 

It  was  a  healthy,  happy  pair  of  young  people 
who  finally  rounded  to  at  Kitty's  private  berth. 
Tom  helped  her  to  furl  the  sails  and  make  all 
snug,  though  she  threatened  more  than  once  to 
call  a  policeman  and  have  him  arrested  for  not 
obeying  her  order  to  sit  still  until  she  gave  him 
permission  to  land.  They  chatted  gaily  on  their 
way  to  the  house.  Kitty  told  him  of  the  good 
things  she  had  ordered  for  dinner,  —  to  which  the 
fresh  mackerel  were  to  be  added,  —  and  they  en- 
joyed the  feast  in  anticipation. 

Imagine  their  dismay,  on  arriving  at  the  gate, 
to  see  Captain  Blake  seated  in  a  garden  chair, 
smoking  a  huge  meerschaum  and  reading  the 
paper. 

"  Why,  papa !  "  exclaimed  Kitty,  in  mild  conster- 
nation, "  I  thought  you  were  in  Bath.  Here's 
Tom  come  to  dine  with  us." 

The  old  gentleman  gave  them  a  sidelong  glance 
from  under  his  shaggy  brows,  and  asked :  "  What 
are  you  doing  here,  Mr.  Benton  ?  Are  you  not  in 
charge  of  the  Columbia  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"    replied  Tom,  sheepishly. 

"  Go  inside,  Kate !    what  are   you  standing   there 


TOM   FINDS    HIMSELF   FRIENDLESS  43 

for?  You  had  better  go  aboard  and  take  care  of 
your  vessel,  Mr.  Benton  ;  and  you  may  call  at  my 
office  to-morrow  morning  at  ten  o'clock.  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!"  replied  Tom.  With  a  sorrowful 
nod  to  Kitty,  —  who  threw  him  a  kiss  from  behind 
a  rosebush,  scowling  at  her  father's  back  at  the 
same  time,  —  Tom  returned  hungrily  on  board. 
While  gnawing  at  hard  tack  and  cold  salt  horse, 
his  thoughts  dwelt  with  vague  forebodings  on  the 
meeting  with  Captain  Blake  on  the  morrow.  His 
recollection  of  Alec's  warning,  together  with  the 
captain's  strange  aversion,  which  had  been  so  evident 
since  the  Columbia's  arrival,  worried  him  greatly, 

Next  morning,  at  ten  o'clock  sharp,  Tom  entered 
Captain  Blake's  outer  office  and  sent  in  his  name. 
He  was  kept  waiting  an  hour.  Twice  during  that 
time,  he  caught  a  glance  of  the  captain's  burly 
form  through  the  partly  open  door,  and  observed 
that  he  sat  by  the  window,  looking  idly  out  and 
smoking  a  cigar.  At  last  Tom  was  allowed  to 
enter  the  sanctum.  He  bade  his  employer  a  re- 
spectful good  morning,  and  received  an  inarticulate 
grunt  in  return.  The  captain  was  now  seated  at 
his  desk,  scanning  a  very  formidable  looking  docu- 
ment. He  did  not  look  up,  nor  waste  any  time 
on  preliminaries  or  unnecessary  courtesy;  but 
plunged  at  once  into  the  subject. 


44  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  I  have  sent  for  you,  Mr.  Benton,"  he  said,  "  to 
square  up  the  account  between  you,  your  late 
father,  and  this  firm.  As  I  shall  not  require  your 
services  after  to-day,  I  will  hand  you  the  balance." 

Half  dazed,  Tom  sank  uninvited  into  a  chair  and 
gazed  open-mouthed  at  the  back  of  Captain  Blake's 
head ;  noting  the  peculiar  movement  of  the  stiff 
gray  mutton-chop  whiskers  as  he  read  aloud  a 
long  statement.  Tom  paid  not  the  slightest  atten- 
tion while  the  old  gentleman  glibly  repeated  the 
figures.  He  was  suddenly  recalled  from  his  wool- 
gathering by  the  harsh  voice  of  the  captain  saying, 
"  Sign  there !  " 

He  took  the  proffered  pen  and  signed  where  he 
was  bid.  With  a  lordly  air,  and  a  grand  flourish, 
the  captain  handed  him  a  check  for  one  hundred 
and  thirty-eight  dollars  and  twenty-seven  cents.  He 
stared  blankly  at  the  check  for  a  moment,  and 
then  asked,  "  What  is  this  for,  sir  ?  " 

"  Balance  due  you  as  wages,  and  as  your  father's 
heir,"  replied  the  captain. 

"Why,  father  owned  stock  in  the  company!" 
replied  Tom,  in  amazement. 

"  I  have  just  read  you  a  full  statement  of  your 
father's  account  with  this  company,  and  you  as  his 
heir  have  signed  a  receipt  in  full.  My  time  is  valu- 
able—  good  morning." 

Tom  was  now  himself  again.     "  Do  you  mean  to 


TOM   FINDS    HIMSELF   FRIENDLESS  45 

tell  me,  Captain  Blake,"  he  asked,  with  flashing  eye 
and  quivering  lip,  "  that  this  check  represents  my 
father's  savings  for  a  lifetime  ?  I  don't  care  how 
valuable  your  time  is  ;  I  won't  accept  any  such  settle- 
ment as  that."  And  Tom  indignantly  threw  the 
check  on  the  desk. 

Bully  Blake  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face  livid 
with  rage.  He  seized  Tom  by  the  shoulder,  and 
shaking  his  great  brown  fist  in  the  boy's  face,  roared 
out:  "  What  do  you  mean  by  such  insolence,  sir? 
Do  you  know  that  your  father  was  an  embezzler,  a 
scoundrel,  and  a  thief?  Instead  of  paying  you,  I 
should  have  been  justified  in  applying  your  wages  to 
the  liquidation  of  his  indebtedness,  and  I  might  have 
sent  you  to  jail." 

This  vilification  of  his  dead  father  —  whom  Tom 
had  always  regarded  as  the  noblest  of  men  —  was 
too  much  for  his  outraged  feelings.  He  replied  in 
bitterly  insulting  language  ;  such  language  as  is  fre- 
quently heard  on  board  ship,  and  with  which  Bully 
Blake  was  thoroughly  familiar.  He  even  threatened 
the  old  man  with  severe  bodily  chastisement  then 
and  there.  Captain  Blake  thrust  the  check  into 
Tom's  coat  pocket,  and,  seizing  him  by  the  throat, 
he  yelled,  "  Get  out !  "  Before  Tom  could  offer 
any  resistance,  a  door  was  quietly  opened  in  his 
rear,  a  pair  of  sinewy  arms  encircled  his  waist,  and, 
with  the  assistance  of  the  obsequious  head  clerk, 


46  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Captain  Blake  forced  him  —  struggling  and  kicking 
-  past  the  grinning  occupants  of  the  outer  office  to 
the  front  door.  The  door  was  opened,  he  was 
kicked  flying  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  and 
warned  to  clear  out  or  he  would  be  locked  up.  He 
picked  himself  up,  boiling  with  impotent  rage.  His 
feelings  were  hurt  worse  than  his  person  ;  he  had 
heard  of  people  being  kicked  out  of  places,  but  had 
always  regarded  it  as  a  figure  of  speech,  —  now  he 
knew  better.  He  brushed  the  dirt  from  his  clothes, 
knocked  a  dent  out  of  his  hat,  and  made  haste  to 
escape  from  the  rapidly  gathering  crowd. 

On  turning  a  corner  he  was  confronted  by  the 
black  and  gold  sign  of  Mr.  "Theophilus  Naylor, 
Attorney  and  Counsellor  at  Law."  Tom  knew  Mr. 
Naylor,  as  he  had  frequently  visited  his  office  in 
company  with  his  father,  who  sometimes  had  busi- 
ness requiring  legal  advice.  He  entered  and  asked 
to  see  the  lawyer.  The  clerk  took  his  name  in,  and 
though  Tom  told  him  his  business  was  urgent,  he 
was  allowed  a  half-hour  in  which  to  collect  his 
thoughts.  When  he  was  finally  admitted,  he  found 
Mr.  Naylor  ostensibly  very  busy  peering  over  a  lot 
of  papers.  He  had  always  been  very  affable  when 
Tom  came  to  the  office  with  his  father,  but  now 
he  merely  glanced  at  him,  and  asked  coldly, 
"  Well,  young  man,  what  can  I  do  for  you  this 
morning?  " 


TOM    FINDS    HIMSELF   FRIENDLESS  47 

"You  remember  me,  don't  you,  Mr.  Nay  lor  ?" 
asked  Tom. 

"  Captain  Benton's  son,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  You  always  attended  to  father's  busi- 
ness, so  I  thought  —  " 

"  Excuse  me,"  interrupted  Mr.  Naylor,  with  polite 
frigidity,  "  I  have  done  but  very  little  business  for 
your  father." 

"  Well,  you  knew  about  his  owning  shares  in  the 
line,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  just  recall  at  the  moment  what  the  nature 
of  the  business  was,  in  which  I  acted  for  Captain 
Benton.  I  certainly  do  not  feel  competent  to  speak 
offhand  in  regard  to  any  investments  which  your 
late  father  may  have  made." 

In  spite  of  his  chilling  reception,  Tom  told  the 
lawyer — who  continued  to  busy  himself  with  his 
papers  —  the  whole  story.  An  awkward  silence 
followed,  finally  broken  by  Mr.  Naylor,  who  asked  in 
a  very  discouraging  manner,  "  Well,  what  do  you 
wish  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  sue  Captain  Blake.  He  has 
robbed  me,  and  I  know  it,"  replied  Tom,  flatly. 

"  I  should  advise  you  to  go  very  slowly,  my 
young  friend,"  replied  the  lawyer,  solemnly.  "  Liti- 
gation is  an  expensive  luxury  and  a  very  unsatis- 
factory remedy  in  most  cases.  It  is  common  talk 
that  your  father's  affairs  were  very  much  involved. 


48  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Very  much  involved,  indeed.  And  as  for  the  grave 
charge  which  you  make  so  recklessly  against  Cap- 
tain Blake,  let  me  advise  you  to  be  careful.  Captain 
Blake's  character  is  unimpeachable.  It  has  stood 
the  test  of  a  long  business  career,  during  which 
he  has  lived  directly  in  the  public  eye.  He 
has  —  " 

"  Never  mind  !  That  will  do  !  "  interrupted  Tom, 
impetuously.  "  I've  heard  enough !  I  see  how  the 
wind  lies!"  and,  without  even  bidding  the  wily 
man  of  law  good  day,  he  went  out,  slamming  the 
door  behind  him. 


CHAPTER   IV 

KITTY   PROVES    HERSELF    "  TRUE    BLUE  "     —  THE    FIRST 
KISS  —  A     STORMY     INTERVIEW    WITH    BULLY    BLAKE 

—  TOM    LEAVES     PORTLAND THE    SAILORS'     HOME 

IN      NEW      YORK A      BENEVOLENT      EX-CAPTAIN  - 

SANDBAGGED  A       PRISONER  —  TO       THE       WORK- 
HOUSE  TO    THE    CHARITY    HOSPITAL 

FROM  force  of  habit,  Tom  went  toward  the 
Columbia.  As  he  was  striding  angrily  along,  head 
down,  Kitty  hailed  him  gleefully,  "  Ship  ahoy ! " 
She  was  sailing  in  circles  just  abreast  of  where 
he  stood.  He  would  have  preferred  not  to  see 
her  just  then,  but  she  steered  in  alongside  the 
wharf  and  said  :  — 

"  I  have  been  aboard  the  Columbia  looking  for 
you,  Tom.  Where  have  you  been  ?  Come  on  and 
take  a  sail  —  there's  a  fine  breeze,  —  a  soldier's  wind, 
'fair  a'  comin'  an'  agoinV  Why,  what's  the  mat- 
ter ? "  she  asked,  in  a  tone  of  disappointment  and 
alarm  as  Tom  dolefully  shook  his  head.  "  Has 
papa  been  growling?  You  mustn't  mind  him. 
E  49 


5O  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

I  don't.  Come,  get  aboard  if  you're  coming  with 
me,  and  don't  stand  there  like  a  loon  on  one  leg." 

Her  light  banter  relieved  the  tension,  and,  reflect- 
ing that  he  was  now  his  own  master,  he  accepted 
her  invitation.  He  sat  gloomily  in  the  stern  sheets 
while  Kitty  worked  her  passage  skilfully  out  of 
the  harbor.  Once  arrived  in  the  open  bay,  she 
trimmed  her  sheets  and  set  a  course  for  Long 
Island,  which  was  a  favorite  picnic  ground  of  theirs, 
and,  turning  to  Tom,  asked :  — 

"  What  did  papa  say  to  you,  Tom  ?  was  he  real 
mad  ? " 

"Yes,  pretty  mad." 

"Well,  what  did  he  say?  You  needn't  be  so 
awful  short  about  it." 

"  I  guess  you'd  better  put  back,  Kitty.  I  know 
I  ain't  very  good  company  to-day,  but  I  can't 
help  it." 

"  Tom    Benton,    if    you   don't   tell   me   what    the 

matter   is,   I'll    put   back  and   land   you,  and   never 

speak   to   you    again    as   long   as    I    live.      I    know 

papa  has  riled  you,  but  you  needn't  be  mad  at  me 

—  I  —  I  —  think  you're  real  mean  —  there  !  " 

There  were  tears  in  her  voice.  Tom  could  not 
see  her  eyes,  as  she  kept  her  face  turned  per- 
sistently to  windward;  but  her  tone  and  manner, 
so  eloquent  of  distress,  subdued  him  at  once. 

"  I'm  not  mad  at  you,  Kitty,"  he   replied ;    "  the 


HARDSHIPS   IN  NEW   YORK  51 

Lord  knows  you  are  the  last  person  in  the  world  I 
could  imagine  myself  angry  with.  But  I'm  terribly 
in  the  dumps.  My  cake  is  all  dough  again  !  " 

"  There !  I  knew  it.  Papa  has  been  jawing  you, 
and  you  have  believed  everything  he  said  ;  but  don't 
you  do  it.  Why,  Tom,  he  talks  just  the  same  to  me, 
sometimes,  but  I'm  used  to  it.  I  just  let  him  go 
ahead  and  say  nothing,  and  he  soon  gets  over  it. 
Don't  you  mind  anything  he  said  to  you  ;  he'll  forget 
all  about  it  by  the  time  we  get  back —  I  know  him." 

"  No,  he  won't,  Kitty,  nor  I  won't  either ;  I  s'pose 
I  may  as  well  out  with  it:  your  father  has  paid  me 
off — I  am  discharged  and — " 

"  Discharged  !  Tom  Benton,  what  are  you  talking 
about  ?  Discharged  !  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  my 
father  has  discharged  you  after  the  way  you  brought 
the  Columbia  home  ?  " 

"Yes,  Kitty,  that  is  just  what  I  mean  to  say." 

"  Why,  I  can  hardly  believe  it ;  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  You  know  as  much  about  that  as  I  do,  Kitty ; 
you  heard  him  tell  me  to  call  at  the  office  this 
morning,  and  when  I  called,  he  discharged  me." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think,  Tom  ;  somebody  has 
been  telling  papa  lies  about  you.  I'll  bet  it's  that 
Jorkins,  the  head  clerk.  He  don't  like  it  because 
you  and  I  go  out  together.  I  hate  him;  but  he's 
always  smirking  and  smiling,  and  trying  to  talk  to 
me  —  " 


52  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  Down  helm,  Kitty  !  Down  helm  !  "  cried  Tom 
excitedly;  "I'll  go  back  and  punch  the  head  off 
that  Jorkins  ;  I  owe  it  to  him  on  my  own  account, 
anyway." 

"  Pshaw,  Tom !  never  mind  Jorkins  ;  I  don't  care 
anything  about  him,  and  I'll  talk  to  papa  this  even- 
ing and  make  it  all  right — 'you  see  if  I  don't.  You 
call  at  the  office  again  to-morrow  morning,  and  I  bet 
it  will  be  all  right.  I  know  how  to  come  it  over 
him.  I've  done  it  lots  of  times." 

"  You  can't  do  it  this  time,  Kitty.  It's  no  use,  and 
you  mustn't  try.  Your  father  an'  I  have  had  a  big 
row ;  he  said  things  about  —  about  my  dead  father 
that  I  wouldn't  —  wouldn't  take  from  the  —  the 
President  of  the  United  States—  Here,  in  spite 
of  his  seventeen  years,  Tom  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"What  did  he  say  about  your  father,  Tom?" 
asked  Kitty,  soothingly. 

"  Never  mind  ;  I  don't  want  to  tell  you ;  he's  your 
father,  an'  it  wouldn't  do  any  good  for  us  to  talk 
about  it ;  but,  Kitty,  he  angered  me  so  that  I  talked 
back  to  him  as  I  never  did  to  a  grown  person  before. 
So  you  see  it's  all  over,  and  Portland  ain't  big 
enough  to  hold  us  both.  He  won't  go,  so  I  must. 
I  think  I'll  go  to  New  York  and  work  my  way  up. 
I  can  do  it.  Thousands  of  other  boys  have  ;  my 
father  did." 


HARDSHIPS   IN  NEW  YORK  53 

"  Oh,  don't  go  away  off  like  that ;  I  can't  bear  to 
have  you.  We'll  never  see  each  other  again,  I  know 
we  shan't."  Kitty  was  crying  as  if  her  heart  would 
break.  Now  that  the  prospect  of  a  permanent  sepa- 
ration obtruded  itself  upon  them,  they  each  realized 
how  much  their  happiness  had  depended  on  each 
other's  company.  Tom  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  his 
own  feelings  were  so  dismal  that  he  made  but  little 
progress.  They  sailed  in  silence  for  a  while,  then 
Kitty  said :  - 

"  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  go  away,  Tom.  It 
isn't  good  for  you  to  leave  all  your  friends  and  go  off 
among  perfect  strangers." 

"  Friends  !  "  said  Tom,  cynically,  as  he  remem- 
bered his  reception  by  the  lawyer.  "  What  friends 
have  I  in  Portland  ?  When  it  becomes  known  that 
your  father  has  discharged  me,  nobody  will  care  to 
be  my  friend.  No,  Kitty,  outside  of  yourself,  I  have 
no  friend  to  leave.  I  tell  you  I\Q  got  to  go,  and  the 
sooner  the  better." 

They  sailed  around  Long  Island  —  neither  caring 
to  land  —  and  returned  to  the  city.  Kitty's  sound 
sense  enabled  her  to  see  the  force  of  Tom's  argu- 
ment. So,  like  the  brave  girl  that  she  was,  she  sub- 
dued her  own  feelings  of  sorrow  at  the  loss  of  the 
only  companion  she  had,  and  applied  herself  to  the 
task  of  cheering  him.  While  they  were  still  a  mile 
from  the  harbor  he  said  to  her :  — 


54  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"Kitty,  you  are  the  only  person  in  the  whole 
world  —  now  that  father  is  dead  —  that  cares  for 
me.  I  ain't  afraid  to  go  —  I  can  make  out.  Thou- 
sands of  other  fellows  have  gone  off,  as  I  am  going 
now,  and  come  back  rich.  That  is  what  I'm  going 
to  do;  I'll  never  come  back  until  I'm  captain  of  as 
fine  a  ship  as  your  father  ever  commanded.  It  will 
be  an  uphill  job,  I  know,  and  it  will  be  a  great  help 
to  me  if  I  can  remember  that  somebody  is  thinking 
of  me  and  wishing  me  success.  You  will,  won't  you, 
Kitty  ?  " 

"You  know  I  will,  you  poor  boy;  I'll  think  of 
you  always  and  remember  you  in  my  prayers  every 
night ;  and,  Tom,  I  want  you  to  write  to  me  every 
chance  you  have,  and  I  will  to  you,  too." 

"  I  don't  suppose  I'll  have  much  chance,  Kitty  ; 
you  know  sailors  don't  as  a  rule  ;  but  say,  Kitty." 

"What  is  it,  Tom  ?" 

"  We  are  getting  pretty  close  in  —  I'm  going  away 
to-day  —  " 

"Yes?" 

"  Do  you  mind  —  kissing  me  good-bye  ?  " 

Tom's  face  was  as  red  as  the  sun  on  a  hot  sum- 
mer's morning.  Kitty  blushed,  too,  but  she  had  the 
courage  of  her  convictions.  Without  a  word  she  put 
her  disengaged  arm  around  his  neck  and  for  the  first 
time  their  lips  met  in  a  kiss  of  innocent  boy  and 
girl  love.  After  that,  they  both  felt  differently. 


HARDSHIPS   IN   NEW   YORK  55 

There  was  a  sense  of  mutual  ownership  ;  they  were 
closer  to  each  other  than  they  had  ever  been  before. 
Tom  was  now  sure  he  could  safely  have  told  Kitty 
of  all  that  had  passed  between  her  father  and  him- 
self, but  he  would  spare  her.  Kitty  felt  that  it  was 
her  Tom  who  was  going  away,  and  she  talked  to  him 
in  a  motherly  way,  giving  him  lots  of  good  advice, 
and  calling  him  dear.  All  of  which  Tom  found  very 
gratifying,  and  he  wished  that  he  had  made  the 
proposition  hours  —  ay,  days  and  weeks — ago. 

As  Kitty  jammed  her  helm  alee  and  luffed  round 
the  head  of  the  wharf  to  her  berth,  Captain  Blake  — 
his  usually  surly  face  like  a  thunder  cloud — stood 
on  the  stringpiece,  looking  straight  at  them.  They 
furled  their  sails  and  made  the  boat  fast,  while  he 
stood  silently  glaring  down  at  them,  then,  hand  in 
hand,  they  came  up  the  water-soaked  steps.  Kitty's 
cheeks  were  flushed,  but  she  went  up  to  her  angry 
father  fearlessly. 

"  Go  home  this  instant,  Kate !  "  said  Captain 
Blake,  his  voice  trembling  with  rage.  "  And  you, 
sir,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Tom,  "  if  I  ever  catch 
you  with  my  daughter  again,  I'll  cane  you  till  you 
can't  stand.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Oh,  papa  !  "  exclaimed  Kitty,  pleadingly. 

"  No,  you  won't,"  replied  Tom,  stoutly;  "  I'm  not  in 
your  employ  now,  and  I  won't  take  any  orders  from 
you." 


56  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Captain  Blake  raised  his  heavy  cane.  He  was 
livid  with  rage.  Flecks  of  foam  dropped  from  his 
purple  lips  upon  his  beard.  He  was  a  horrible  sight. 
Kitty  rushed  to  her  father's  aid,  at  the  same  time 
begging  Tom  to  go.  Desiring  to  spare  Kitty  the 
annoyance  of  witnessing  a  quarrel  between  her 
father  and  himself,  Tom  turned  a  corner,  and,  call- 
ing a  dray,  hastened  on  board  the  Columbia.  The 
sooner  he  left  now,  the  better,  he  decided;  so  he 
soon  had  his  dunnage  on  the  dray,  and,  telling  the 
driver  to  wait  for  him  at  the  Boston  and  Maine 
station,  he  cashed  his  check  at  the  ship  chandler's, 
and  was  soon  miles  away  from  Portland. 

The  next  morning  on  arriving  in  New  York,  Tom 
inquired  of  the  line  of  vociferous  hackmen  who 
formed  a  gauntlet  across  the  exit  from  the  railroad 
station,  if  any  of  them  could  take  him  to  the  Sailors' 
Home.  They  swarmed  about  him  like  flies,  each  de- 
claring himself  the  only  one  capable.  With  genuine 
Yankee  shrewdness,  Tom  demanded  to  know  the 
fare.  "  Five  dollars!"  "Take  ye  fer  four,  boss! 
four  dollars  an'  de  finest  hack  in  town  !  "  "  Tree 
dollars,  boss  !  Hey,  mister,  I'll  take  ye  fer  tree  !  " 
And  so  they  haggled,  beating  each  other  down  and 
abusing  each  other  shamefully,  until  a  bright  young 
fellow  forced  himself  through  the  crowd,  and,  seizing 
Tom's  sleeve,  said  :  "  Hey,  boss,  don't  ye  mind  none 
er  dem  ducks ;  dey  don'  know  where  de  Sailors' 


TAKE  YE  PER  FOUR,  Boss !  " 


HARDSHIPS   IN  NEW   YORK  57 

Home  is.  Come  wit  Barney.  I'll  take  ye  fer 
nuttin  !  Now,  den,  wat's  de  matter  wit  dat  ?  " 

Tom  laughed.  "  You're  the  man  !  "  said  he,  "  Do 
you  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Dat's  wat  I  does  !  Come  'ere  !  "  He  led  Tom 
to  his  hack.  Opening  the  door,  he  waved  his  hand 
grandly  toward  the  interior.  "  Wat's  de  matter  wit 
dat,  hey  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Fit  for  an  alderman, 
ain't  it  ?  I  should  say  so !  Git  right  in  dere  an' 
make  yerself  comfortable !  Put  yer  feet  on  de  seat 
if  yer  wants  to !  It's  your  hack!  Got  any  baggage  ? 
Gimme  yer  checks!" 

He  returned  shortly,  accompanied  by  a  porter; 
between  them  they  had  Tom's  chest  and  bag. 
When  the  baggage  was  loaded,  the  driver  stuck 
his  head  in  the  door  and  said :  "  I  had  ter  give  de 
porter  tenpence  ter  help  carry  de  trunk;  but  dat's 
all  right,  I  ain't  kickin'."  Without  waiting  for 
an  answer,  he  slammed  the  door,  jumped  on  the 
box,  cracked  his  whip,  and  away  they  rattled.  It 
was  a  long  ride  across  town  from  the  station  to 
James  Street.  Tom  employed  the  time  watching 
the  strange  sights,  and  wondering  at  the  disinter- 
estedness of  the  hackman.  If  all  business  in  New 
York  was  transacted  on  a  similar  basis,  he  reflected 
that  he  had  come  to  the  right  town.  After  driv- 
ing through  blocks  of  squalid,  filthy  streets,  they 
stopped  in  front  of  the  worst-looking  den  Tom 


58  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

had  yet  seen.  The  driver  jumped  down,  opened 
the  door  with  a  flourish,  and  said :  "  Here  ye  are, 
boss  !  How's  dat  fer  a  free  ride,  hey  ?  " 

"  Is  this  the  Sailors'  Home?"  asked  Tom,  survey- 
ing the  vile  rookery  with  frank  disgust.  Its 
appearance  was  indeed  far  from  prepossessing. 
The  front  room  was  a  gin  mill  of  the  lowest  type. 
There  was  a  show  window  streaked  with  dirt  and 
festooned  with  "  Irish  pennants,"  and  one  pane 
of  it  splintered,  and  fished  with  a  brown  paper 
patch.  Inside  it,  by  way  of  ornament,  there  was 
a  stuffed  penguin,  with  a  heavy  starboard  list,  as 
though  the  squall  that  sprung  the  glass  had  shifted 
its  sawdust  ballast.  This  derelict  bird  was  sup- 
ported on  one  side  by  a  swordnsh's  sword,  and 
on  the  other  by  a  pot-bellied  demijohn — both  equally 
flyblown.  There  were  two  wooden  settles,  one  on 
each  side  of  the  door,  and  end  on  to  the  street. 
Their  black,  grease-polished  backs  were  orna- 
mented by  numerous  jackknife  carvings,  represent- 
ing notches,  stars,  anchors,  and  crucifixes.  Further 
than  this,  the  nautical  amateur  artists  had  not  ven- 
tured. One  of  them  was  occupied  by  a  filthy 
brute  lying  at  full  length,  his  head  hanging  nearly 
to  the  ground,  his  purple  and  swollen  face  cov- 
ered with  flies,  while  from  his  open  mouth  he 
emitted  a  series  of  drunken  snores.  Two  rather 
decent-looking  fellows  occupied  the  other  one. 


HARDSHIPS    IN   NEW   YORK  59 

They  utilized  the  space  between  them  on  the  seat 
as  a  card  table,  and  were  playing  a  game  of 
bluff. 

The  interior  of  this  kennel  was,  if  possible,  less 
prepossessing  than  the  exterior.  A  low  ceiling 
was  festooned  with  scalloped  and  many-colored 
fly-paper,  fancifully  perforated,  and  dingy  with 
age,  having  evidently  served  its  purpose  with  the 
flies.  There  was  a  low  bar  at  one  side,  which 
harmonized  with  the  general  filth.  The  floor  was 
covered  two  inches  deep  with  a  fragrant  mass  of 
sawdust,  saturated  with  beer  slops,  tobacco  juice, 
and  such  other  bar-room  flotsam  as  had  accumu- 
lated during  the  week.  Four  men,  clad  in  cheap 
cotton  trousers,  and  shirts  of  varying  shades  of 
weather-beaten  blue,  slouched  against  the  bar, 
gazing  stolidly  —  anywhere. 

In  answer  to  Tom's  question,  the  Jehu  replied, 
that  it  was  indeed  the  Sailors'  Home,  and  a  finer 
place  couldn't  be  found  in  a  day's  ride. 

"Hey,  youse ! "  he  cried  to  the  card-players, 
"w'y  don't  ye's  lend  a  hand  wit  de  cap'n's  clo'es  ? 
Ye's  won't  hang  back  w'en  it  comes  to  bracin' 
agin  de  bar  an'  drinkin'  'is  healt',  will  ye's  ? " 

"All  right!  All  right,  boss;  yust  as  you  say," 
answered  one,  as  they  came  cheerfully  to  the 
front  and  carried  in  the  dunnage.  Tom  followed 
the  hackman  —  who  was  greeted  by  the  ruby- 


60  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

nosed,  black-moustached  functionary  behind  the  bar, 
as  an  old  acquaintance  —  into  the  place. 

"  Hey,  Mike  !  "  said  the  driver,  "  dis  bloke  was 
astin'  for  de  Sailors'  Home,  so  I  brung  'im  along." 

"Dat's  right,  Barney!  Dat'll  be  all  right,  me 
boy  !  "  replied  the  bartender.  "  Now,  den,  gen'le- 
men,  step  up  an'  'ave  a  wet  wi'  yer  new  shipmate. 
W'at'll  it  be?  No  beer  dis  time;  all  hard  stuff." 

"Oh,  set  out  the  bottle,"  called  out  the  worst 
looking  of  the  four.  "  What  are  ye  guffin'  about  ? 
Wanter  make  us  think  this  is  Delmoniky's  ?  " 

While  they  were  drinking,  the  hackman  confided 
to  Tom  that  the  proprietor  was  his  cousin.  "An' 
he's  got  a  heart  in  'im  like  a  bullock,"  he  added. 
"Fine  place,  ain't  it?"  he  asked,  with  a  comprehen- 
sive glance  of  unmistakable  pride  at  the  vile  sur- 
roundings. Tom  asked  the  proprietor  his  terms. 

"  Five  dollars  a  week,  me  boy.  Dat's  all  I  ast 
any  man,  an'  you  has  de  privilege  of  de  whole 
house.  I  treats  my  boarders  jes  as  if  dey  was  mem- 
bers of  me  own  family ;  eats  at  de  table  wit  'em 
meself." 

"That's  what  he  does,"  chimed  in  the  fellow  who 
had  spoken  before  ;  "  they  ain't  no  lugs  about  Mike ; 
I  don't  care  if  you  was  the  cap'n  of  the  Great  East- 
ern or  cook  of  a  Philadelphy  coal  schooner,  it's  all 
one  to  Mike." 

"As  I  don't  know  how  long  I  may  be  here,"  said 


HARDSHIPS   IN  NEW   YORK  6l 

Tom,  "  I  should  like  to  pay  a  couple  of  weeks'  board 
in  advance ;  if  I  ship  before  that  time,  you  can  re- 
fund whatever  is  owing  to  me."  Mike  nearly  fell 
over  the  bar.  Board  in  advance  !  The  time-honored 
customs  of  sailor  town  shattered  by  a  boy  !  But  he 
recovered  himself  by  an  effort. 

"W'y  cert'nly,  of  course,"  he  replied  when  he 
could  catch  his  breath.  "  Dat's  w'at  we  are  here 
fer.  Two  weeks'  board ;  ten  dollars.  De  drinks  is 
on  me,  gents." 

It  was  some  relief  to  get  out  in  the  street  and 
walk  about ;  but  the  sun  was  hot,  and  the  odor  from 
the  overflowing  garbage  boxes  so  overwhelming  that 
he  was  glad  to  return.  After  dinner  —  which  to  Tom's 
surprise  was  both  good  and  bountiful  —  he  had  the 
luck  to  secure  a  seat  on  one  of  the  settles  under 
the  awning.  Here  he  was  joined  by  a  decent-looking 
elderly  man  whom  he  had  not  seen  before,  and  who 
explained  that  he  had  but  just  risen  after  sleeping 
off  a  load  of  Mike's  "benzine."  During  the  con- 
versation which  ensued,  the  old  fellow  said  that  he 
had  sailed  with  Captain  Blake,  "years  ago,"  and 
had  been  robbed  by  him  of  half  his  pay.  Tom 
asked  him  why  the  hackman  had  been  so 
generous. 

"  Oh,  he  knows  the  ropes,  that's  why.  He  knew 
if  he  offered  to  carry  ye  free,  he'd  git  the  job,  an' 
he  knew  Mike  would  pay  him,  an'  take  it  out  of 


62  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

your  month's  advance  when  ye  ship.  The  other 
fellows  didn't  know  that,  so  he  got  the  job." 

"  I  always  thought  the  Sailors'  Home  different 
from  this,"  said  Tom,  with  unconcealed  disgust. 

"  So  'tis,  sonny,  altogether  different.  That's  where 
you'd  ought  to  have  gone." 

"  Why,  isn't  this  it  ?  " 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  then 
burst  into  a  loud  guffaw. 

"  Say,  bub,  who  give  ye  that  ? "  he  asked. 

"The  hackman." 

"  Well,  I  swear !  Say,  boy,  that's  worth  a  treat. 
Come  on,  fellers,  an'  have  one  on  the  new  ship- 
mate!" Thinking  it  advisable  to  keep  on  the  right 
side  of  the  crowd,  Tom  submitted  with  the  best 
grace  possible,  though  it  was  contrary  to  his  prin- 
ciples to  buy  liquor,  to  say  nothing  of  the  vile  com- 
pound which  Mike  retailed.  As  he  pulled  out  a 
roll  of  bills  to  pay  for  the  shot,  he  observed  a  tall, 
thin  old  man,  clad  in  a  long  threadbare  black  coat 
and  an  equally  threadbare  silk  hat,  watching  him 
hungrily.  When  the  old  man  saw  Tom  looking  at 
him,  he  slunk  away.  The  boarders  also  observed 
the  wad,  and  immediately  became  friendly ;  but 
Tom  refused  to  be  bled  further. 

At  about  nine  o'clock  that  evening,  the  seedy 
individual  reappeared.  Tom  was  standing  near  the 
door.  The  old  man  handed  him  a  tract  and  entered 


HARDSHIPS   IN   NEW   YORK  63 

into  conversation.  When  he  learned  that  Tom  had 
but  just  arrived,  he  became  interested.  He  urged 
the  boy  to  come  with  him  and  pass  the  evening  at 
the  Seamen's  Bethel.  A  prayer  meeting  was  in 
progress  there,  he  said,  and  it  was  a  much  better 
place  for  him  than  among  the  profane  and  drunken 
sailors  in  the  boarding-house.  Tom  readily  as- 
sented. He  was  disgusted  with  his  surroundings, 
and  the  prayer  meeting  offered  an  air  of  respecta- 
bility. 

The  old  gentleman,  pleased  to  see  him  acquiesce 
so  readily,  took  his  arm  with  an  air  of  fatherly  solici- 
tude, and  beguiled  the  walk  to  the  Bethel  with  a 
short  account  of  himself.  He  was,  he  said,  an  ex- 
captain.  After  following  the  sea  for  forty-five  years, 
he  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his  ship,  and  being 
an  old  man  he  found  himself  crowded  out.  No 
one  was  looking  for  old  men  who  lost  ships. 
Having  always  kept  a  sharp  eye  to  windward,  he 
was  not  destitute,  and  by  strict  economy,  his  means 
would  last  until  he  should  moor  in  that  port  where 
the  windlass  brakes  are  thrown  overboard,  and  the 
battered  hulk  may  find  permanent  rest.  To  occupy 
his  time  in  a  fitting  manner,  he  had  volunteered  to 
distribute  tracts,  and  try  to  induce  sailors  to  attend 
the  Bethel  meetings,  rather  than  pass  their  time 
in  the  numerous  hell-holes  with  which  sailor  town 
abounded. 


64  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Tom  wondered,  mildly,  how  such  a  self-sacrificing 
and  beautiful  spirit  came  to  be  associated  with  a 
a  phosphorescent  nose  and  chemical  breath.  He 
decided  that  it  was  the  result  of  early  vagaries 
which  had  become  crystallized  into  a  settled  habit, 
and  therefore  should  not  be  charged  against  the 
good  old  man.  They  had  now  arrived  at  a  lone- 
some place.  The  street  was  occupied  entirely  by 
closed  warehouses,  and  the  sidewalks  encumbered 
by  old  boilers,  iron  buoys  which  had  outlived  their 
usefulness  after  years  of  faithful  service,  and  rust- 
eaten  anchors  and  chains  which,  like  the  old  captain 
himself,  were  now  laid  up  for  good. 

"There,  my  dear  young  friend,  do  you  see  that 
green  light  ? "  asked  the  old  gentleman,  pointing 
as  he  spoke  across  Tom's  hawse  toward  the  river. 
Tom  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  lean 
and  shaking  forefinger ;  but,  seeing  no  light,  he 
turned  in  time  to  catch  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  the 
venerable  captain's  right  arm  describing  the  arc 
of  a  circle,  which,  if  indefinitely  extended,  would 
bisect  his  own  cranium.  His  astonishment  pre- 
vented him  warding  off  the  blow.  He  saw  myriads 
of  stars  —  and  then  —  some  one  shook  him  roughly, 
and  a  voice  said:  "Come,  come!  Rouse  up!  the 
Black  Maria  is  waiting.  Git  up,  d'ye  hear  ? " 

He  was  dragged  unceremoniously  to  his  feet,  and, 
opening  his  eyes  by  an  effort,  he  found  himself  in 


HARDSHIPS   IN   NEW   YORK  65 

the  grasp  of  a  policeman.  A  dazed  glance  at  his 
surroundings  showed  him  that  he  was  in  a  cell. 
Having  got  him  on  his  feet,  the  officer  pushed  him 
through  a  grated  door,  up  half-a-dozen  stone  steps, 
and  through  an  outer  office  to  the  street.  The 
bright  sunshine  dazzled  him  and  hurt  his  head. 
He  was  vaguely  glad  when  he  was  thrust  into  the 
semi-obscurity  of  the  Black  Maria.  Here,  among 
samples  of  the  city's  human  refuse,  which  the  police 
drag-net  had  gathered  during  the  preceding  night, 
he  stumbled  to  a  seat  in  the  corner,  and  promptly 
relapsed  into  unconsciousness. 

"Ye're  a  drunk  short,  Barney,"  said  the  court 
officer,  whose  duty  it  was  to  tally  off  the  prisoners 
and  see  that  Barney  had  not  lost  any  on  the  way. 

"  How  am  I  ?  How  manny  does  the  recate  call 
for  ? "  asked  Barney,  partly  in  fear,  but  alert  to 
resent  any  imputation  upon  his  character. 

"Fourteen:  five  faymale  an'  nine  male." 

"Here,  Barney,  where's  that  drunk  o'  mine?" 
asked  a  burly  officer,  as  he  forced  his  way  through 
the  crowd  of  dishevelled  and  miserable  creatures 
who  had  just  debouched  from .  the  sombre  vehicle. 
Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  looked  inside. 
Perceiving  the  limp  heap  in  the  corner,  he  dragged 
it  out.  "It's  all  right,"  he  continued,  "I  got  him. 
That  Water  Street  benzine  has  a  great  holt  on  him. 
He's  drunker  than  he  was  when  I  brought  him  in 


66  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

last  night,"  he  added,  as,  puffing  vigorously,  he 
dragged  Tom  to  the  pen.  When  the  officer  released 
his  hold,  Tom  fell  to  the  floor  an  utter  outcast, 
trampled  underfoot  by  the  vilest  dregs  of  the  great 
city. 

His  captor  partially  aroused  him  by  dint  of  much 
shaking  and  many  objurgations,  and  arraigned  him 
at  the  bar. 

Tom  laid  hold  of  the  grimy  rail,  swaying  dizzily 
as  he  blinked  at  the  blinding  glare  of  the  window 
at  the  magistrate's  back. 

"  Pretty  tough  case,  yer  hon'r,"  remarked  the 
officer,  with  a  grin. 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so ! "  replied  that  high- 
salaried  politician,  as  he  surveyed  Tom's  reeling 
form  over  his  gold-bowed  glasses.  "Where  did 
you  find  him,  officer  ?  " 

"  Southeast  corner  of  Roosevelt,  near  Water,  yer 
hon'r.  He  was  layin'  square  across  the  sidewalk. 
It's  rather  dark  there,  an'  I  nearly  fell  over  'im." 

"What  is  your  name,  young  man?"  shouted  the 
magistrate. 

Having  expended  the  last  of  his  energy,  Tom 
let  go  the  rail  and  fell  to  the  floor  by  way  of 
response. 

"  Workhouse !  Ten  days !  "  said  his  honor,  in  a 
tone  of  deep  disgust. 

To  the  workhouse,  therefore,  Tom  was  taken ;  but 


HARDSHIPS   IN   NEW   YORK  6/ 

before  he  passed  the  doctor,  that  luminary  discov- 
ered that  alcoholism  was  not  his  sole  ailment,  so 
he  had  him  transferred  to  the  Charity  Hospital, 
where  for  two  months  he  hovered  between  life  and 
death,  as  a  result  of  the  sandbagging  he  had  re- 
ceived at  the  hands  of  the  venerable  land  pirate, 
for  the  sake  of  the  few  dollars  in  his  pocket. 


CHAPTER   V 

DEATH  OF  BULLY  BLAKE  —  A  GRAND  FUNERAL  FOR  A 
GOOD  MAN LAWYER  NAYLOR  SEES  HIS  OPPORTU- 
NITY—  CAPTAIN  BLAKE'S  CHARACTER  VINDICATED  — 

MR.   NAYLOR    REWARDED  —  KITTY   PERFORMS  AN  ACT 
OF    RESTITUTION 

WHEN  Kitty  rushed  to  her  father's  side,  it  was 
solely  for  the  purpose  of  interfering  in  Tom's  behalf, 
to  save  her  friend  and  playmate  from  her  father's 
fury.  She  clasped  him  round  the  waist,  crying, 
"  Oh,  papa,  don't,  don't!" 

Captain  Blake  threw  up  his  arms,  swayed  a  mo- 
ment, staggered  a  few  steps  ahead,  and  fell  heavily. 
With  difficulty,  Kitty  disengaged  herself  in  time  to 
avoid  being  crushed  under  him.  He  fell  like  a 
log,  flat  upon  his  face,  on  the  stone-paved  sidewalk, 
while  his  daughter,  frightened  nearly  out  of  her 
senses,  screamed  wildly  for  help.  There  were  many 
people  about,  and  a  crowd  soon  gathered.  All 
offered  advice,  but  none  acted.  Kitty  regained  her 
composure  quickly,  and  requested  some  of  the  men 
to  carry  her  father  to  his  office,  which  was  near  by. 
She  followed  the  dismal  prpcession,  weeping  and 

68 


DEATH  OF  BULLY  BLAKE  69 

wringing  her  hands.  The  captain  was  laid  on  the 
lounge  in  his  private  office,  and  messengers  sent  in 
different  directions  for  physicians.  The  first  to 
arrive,  Captain  Blake's  own  family  physician,  saw 
at  a  glance  that  it  was  a  case  of  apoplexy.  "  I  have 
been  expecting  this  for  five  years,"  said  he.  "  He 
had  no  control  over  his  temper  —  I  have  warned 
him  many  times." 

But  little  could  be  done,  as  recovery  was  out  of 
the  question.  The  doctor  gave  a  few  instructions 
to  Mr.  Jorkins,  who  assumed  charge  of  the  office, 
and  said  he  would  send  in  a  nurse.  He  invited 
Kitty  to  go  home  with  him,  but  she  declined ;  she 
would  not  leave  her  father,  as  he  might  regain  con- 
sciousness, if  only  for  a  moment.  She  dried  her 
tears,  and  took  charge  of  the  sick-room,  doing  care- 
fully the  few  little  things  that  the  doctor  had  said 
might  be  beneficial  to  the  patient.  The  trained 
nurse  arrived  later,  but  there  was  nothing  for  her 
to  do.  In  the  gray  of  the  early  dawn  Bully  Blake, 
without  recovering  consciousness,  passed  from  human 
ken.  He  died  as  he  had  lived,  —  a  man  of  domineer- 
ing nature,  and  fierce,  ungovernable  passions. 

In  this,  her  first  great  trial,  Kitty  Blake,  the 
brave,  motherless  New  England  girl,  showed  her- 
self a  true  heroine.  While  there  was  anything  to 
do,  she  never  faltered.  And  when  the  last  great 
change  came,  and  the  nurse  drew  the  covers  over 


70  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

the  dead  face,  Kitty,  overwhelmed  for  a  moment, 
staggered,  clutched  at  the  wall,  gasped,  and  in 
an  incredibly  short  time  was  herself  again.  Her 
father's  death  was  a  terrible  blow,  but  her  training 
and  the  traditions  of  her  family  taught  her  to 
repress  all  unseemly  exhibitions  of  grief. 

Captain  Blake's  funeral  was  a  solemn  pageant. 
He  was  one  of  the  best  known  men  in  Portland. 
For  a  lifetime  he  had  been  prominently  connected 
with  its  principal  business  industry,  —  foreign  com- 
merce. The  shipping,  foreign  and  domestic,  dis- 
played their  ensigns  at  half-mast.  An  eloquent 
eulogy  was  pronounced  over  the  remains  of  the 
man  who,  fifty  years  before,  had  walked  into  Port- 
land a  barefoot  boy.  The  holy  man  who  officiated 
drew  a  lesson  and  pointed  a  moral  from  the  well- 
spent  life  so  recently  ended.  It  was  an  enduring 
monument  to  the  conquering  power  of  industry, 
energy,  and  thrift,  when  combined  with,  and  con- 
trolled by,  the  sterling  integrity  and  unwavering 
honesty  which  had  been  the  dominant  character- 
istics of  the  deceased.  Representatives  of  nu- 
merous organizations,  civic,  political,  and  philan- 
thropical,  followed  the  body  of  their  late  brother 
to  the  grave.  Many  who  had  regarded  Bully  Blake 
as  a  close-fisted  old  skinflint  now  saw  their  error. 
Some  even  acknowledged  it.  Captain  Blake  had 
cared  for  the  savings  of  many  of  the  employees  of 


DEATH  OF  BULLY  BLAKE  71 

the  line,  notably  of  the  captains,  because  they  had 
more  to  save.  Some  said  that  all  the  captains  were 
obliged  to  leave  a  certain  percentage  of  their  pay 
in  his  hands  as  the  price  of  their  employment. 
But  these  were  found  to  be  only  the  vaporings  of 
the  disgruntled  who  had  failed  to  secure  employ- 
ment in  the  line. 

An  administrator  was  appointed  to  settle  up  the 
estate.  So  many  interests  were  entwined  with 
those  of  the  late  manager,  that  the  settlement 
assumed  almost  the  proportions  of  a  municipal 
function.  It  became  the  leading  topic  of  conver- 
sation. Among  other  items  it  was  learned  that  the 
late  Captain  Joe  Benton  had  left  twelve  thousand 
dollars  in  Captain  Blake's  keeping.  Where  was 
young  Tom,  the  sole  heir  ?  Kitty  told  what  she 
knew  of  Tom's  intentions,  and  when  it  became 
known  that  an  account  properly  rendered  to  the 
boy,  and  his  receipt  in  full,  had  been  found,  the 
old  stagers  shook  their  heads  dubiously  and  feared 
he  was  squandering  his  patrimony  in  riotous  living. 

Lawyer  Theophilus  Naylor  had  a  grievance  of 
many  years  standing  against  Captain  Blake.  Shortly 
after  his  arrival  in  Portland,  fresh  from  college, 
Captain  Blake  had  tried  him.  He  gave  him  a 
small  case,  just  to  see  what  he  was  made  of.  The 
young  lawyer,  unable  to  win  against  the  facts,  lost 
it,  and  was  at  once  thrust  into  the  obscuring  shadow 


72  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

of  the  captain's  disapproval.  He  felt  the  ill  effects 
ever  after,  but  dared  not  rebel.  This  wholesome 
dread  of  the  magnate's  active  ill-will  had  restrained 
him  when  Tom  told  his  tale  of  woe.  Now  he  saw 
his  chance ;  by  a  master  stroke  he  could  accomplish 
several  things.  He  could  expose  the  man  who  had 
ruined  his  prospects  for  life;  the  man  whom  he 
knew  to  have  been  a  scoundrel,  but  whom  an  ad- 
miring populace  seemed  about  to  canonize.  He 
could  pose  as  the  champion  of  the  robbed  orphan 
and  bask  in  the  resulting  glory.  He  would  no 
doubt  receive  a  fat  fee  from  the  grateful  beneficiary 
of  his  efforts,  and,  incidently,  cause  an  act  of  justice 
to  be  done.  But  better  far  than  all  these  results 
combined  would  be  the  fact  that  he,  Theophilus 
Naylor,  would  be  known  far  and  near,  as  the 
obscure  but  learned  —  very  learned  —  lawyer,  who, 
single  handed,  had  challenged  and  defeated  mighty 
Wrong,  in  behalf  of  puny,  helpless  Right. 

He  was  so  elated  with  the  prospect  of  rapidly 
approaching  distinction  that  he  lapsed  into  indis- 
cretion. He  hinted  to  his  intimates  that  a  sensation 
was  soon  to  appear  in  the  matter  of  the  settlement 
of  the  Blake  estate.  Such  heresy  could  not  be 
kept  secret.  It  spread  from  tongue  to  tongue,  — 
in  strict  confidence,  —  and  expanded  as  it  went.  Hav- 
ing acquired  scandalous  proportions,  and  reached  the 
ears  of  the  faithful,  it  could  not  be  overlooked, 


DEATH  OF  BULLY  BLAKE  73 

Being  pressed  to  make  good  his  words  or  publicly 
retract,  he  incautiously  published  the  whole  story 
in  the  Transcript,  signing  the  article  boldly,  and 
paying  space  rates.  He  was  promptly  prosecuted 
for  malicious  libel.  Popular  opinion  —  as  usual 
• — was  divided,  and  feeling  ran  high.  Mr.  Naylor 
asked  for  and  obtained  time  to  procure  his  witness. 
The  evidence  of  the  ship  chandler's  books  bore  out 
that  part  of  the  statement  relating  to  the  check, 
but  that  was  of  a  negative  character.  While  it 
proved  that  Tom  had  such  a  check,  it  did  not 
prove  that  he  had  been  robbed  of  the  remainder 
by  Captain  Blake. 

Mr.  Jorkins,  Captain  Blake's  head  clerk,  mindful 
of  the  fact  that  he  needed  another  position,  merely 
remembered  assisting  at  Tom's  ejectment  for  insuf- 
ferable insolence.  A  stub  corresponding  to  the 
check  appeared  in  the  check  book,  but  that  merely 
corroborated  what  was  admitted.  The  fact  that 
no  stub  was  found  for  any  other  amount  proved 
nothing.  The  receipt  was  there. 

Mr.  Naylor  hired  expensive  private  detectives,  and 
set  them  on  Tom's  trail.  They  sent  in  expense  ac- 
counts with  discouraging  regularity ;  but  learned 
nothing.  Having  failed  utterly  to  sustain  with  facts 
his  shameless  attack  on  the  character  of  a  reputable 
citizen,  he  was  disbarred  and  became  utterly  dis- 
credited in  the  town.  He  shook  the  inhospitable  dust 


74  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

of  Portland  from  his  feet  forever :  wondering  why, 
even  from  his  grave,  Bully  Blake  should  be  able  to 
blight  his  life. 

During  these  troublous  times,  Kitty  did  a  great 
deal  of  thinking.  She  had  loved  her  father  with 
the  blind,  unreasoning  love  of  a  child  for  a  parent. 
But  she  also  thoroughly  believed  in  Tom  Benton. 
She  knew  Tom  had  not  received  twelve  thousand 
dollars.  She  knew  that.  Therefore,  by  some 
means,  the  money  must  still  be  in  the  estate.  Mr. 
Naylor  having  received  his  just  deserts,  and  no 
other  questions  having  arisen,  the  estate  was  settled, 
and  Mr.  Hiram  Hay  ward,  a  staunch  friend  of  Cap- 
tain Blake,  was  appointed  guardian  of  the  orphan 
during  her  minority. 

One  of  Kitty's  first  acts  was  to  tease  Mr.  Hayward 
for  twelve  thousand  dollars.  This  modest  demand 
struck  the  old  gentleman  flat  aback.  That  was  a 
splendid  beginning,  he  thought.  Of  course  he  re- 
fused to  entertain  the  idea  for  a  moment.  It  was 
too  absurd  to  merit  serious  consideration.  But  Kitty 
persisted.  Morning,  noon,  and  night  she  urged, 
pleaded,  and  coaxed.  She  talked  of  nothing  else  until, 
worn  out  and  half  distracted  by  her  persistency,  he 
told  her  the  court  would  never  sanction  such  an  act. 

"The  court  allows  you  to  give  me  a  reasonable 
amount  of  spending  money,  suitable  to  my  station, 
doesn't  it?"  asked  Kitty. 


DEATH  OF  BULLY  BLAKE  75 

"  A  reasonable  amount  ?  Yes,  certainly,  my 
dear.  But  twelve  thousand  dollars  to  start  on ! 
You  are  not  a  millionaire,  Kitty." 

She  promised  to  sign  an  agreement  —  any  kind 
of  an  agreement  —  binding  herself  never  to  ask  for 
another  cent  as  long  as  she  remained  under  his  care. 
She  also  consented  to  have  the  Sprite  —  her  sole  valu- 
able possession  —  sold,  and  to  accept  the  money  so 
received  as  part  of  the  twelve  thousand.  The  re- 
sult was  what  might  have  been  foreseen.  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  heart  was  not  as  tough  as  perhaps  it  should 
have  been.  He  was  very  fond  of  Kitty,  who  suc- 
ceeded in  gaining  Mrs.  Hayward's  prompt  support. 
The  Sprite  was  sold  advantageously,  and  Kitty  re- 
ceived Mr.  Hayward's  personal  check  for  twelve 
thousand  dollars.  Within  the  hour,  the  valuable 
scrap  of  paper  was  deposited  in  bank  to  the  ac- 
count of  Thomas  Benton,  and  Kitty  felt  the  grati- 
fication that  comes  of  the  knowledge  of  a  just 
deed. 

Surrounded  by  such  home  comforts  as  she  had 
never  known  before,  and  cared  for  by  a  woman  of 
warm  affections,  Kitty  rapidly  recovered  from  the 
depressing  effects  of  her  father's  sudden  death. 
But  she  was  never  again  the  merry  hoyden  whom 
Tom  Benton  had  known.  Separated  forever  from 
her  beloved  Sprite,  her  recreations  under  the  thought- 
ful guidance  of  Mrs.  Hayward  assumed  a  character 


76  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

more  suitable  to  her  sex  and  to  the  position  she  was 
destined  to  occupy.  Her  sweet,  generous  nature 
and  true  heart  remained  unchanged,  or  rather,  under 
improved  surroundings,  the  beauties  of  her  charac- 
ter were  developed  and  strengthened.  Living  in 
comfort  and  moderate  luxury,  she  never  forgot  the 
playmate  who,  she  honestly  believed,  had  been 
wronged  by  her  father.  She  thought  of  him  con- 
tinually. She  hoped  he  was  prospering.  She  knew 
he  would  never  discredit  himself  or  any  one ;  and 
every  night  she,  his  only  friend,  prayed  that  he 
might  succeed,  and  return  to  refute  the  slanders 
that  many  had  spoken  of  him.  Sometimes,  when 
she  thought  of  the  misfortunes  that  might  so  easily 
befall  him,  out  in  the  world  alone,  with  no  one  to 
speak  a  kind  or  encouraging  word,  her  heart  was 
very  sad,  and  her  pillow  wet  with  honest,  loving 
tears. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE      HARDEST     OF     HARD      LUCK     IN     NEW     YORK A 

GOOD      SAMARITAN GENERAL      UTILITY      MAN AT 

SEA    AGAIN "ACROSS  THE    WESTERN    OCEAN" 

WHEN  Tom  regained  consciousness  in  the  hospital, 
they  asked  his  name,  age,  residence,  and  occupation. 
Nothing  more.  He  answered  them,  but  volunteered 
no  information,  for  he  understood  that,  among  such 
universal  misery,  his  affairs  were  of  no  moment. 

At  the  expiration  of  two  months  he  was  dis- 
charged, not  because  he  was  well  and  fit  to  en- 
gage in  the  fierce  struggle  for  bread,  but  because 
the  poverty-stricken  horde  of  invalids  crowding  the 
limited  accommodations  necessitated  vacating  the 
beds  as  soon  as  possible.  An  orderly  brought  his 
clothes.  Faintly  hoping,  he  searched  the  pockets. 
The  dim  recollection  of  his  walk  with  the  benevo- 
lent old  captain  was  verified.  His  pockets  were 
empty.  His  clothes  had  been  good,  for  they  were 
his  best  suit,  but  now  they  were  little  better  than 
rags,  as,  like  himself,  they  bore  evidence  of  their 
experience  in  the  police  cell,  the  prison  pen,  and 
the  hospital. 

77 


78  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

No  one  asked  him  what  he  would  do  on  regain- 
ing his  liberty,  nor  what  were  his  prospects  of 
obtaining  subsistence.  That  is  no  part  of  the  work 
of  municipal  charity.  He  was  turned  adrift  ragged 
and  half  sick,  but  with  the  ravenous  hunger  of  con- 
valescence —  an  hour  before  dinner.  Thereby  he 
contributed  his  poor  mite  to  the  making  of  the 
economical  record  of  the  new  commissioner.  He 
wandered  miserably  about,  becoming  momentarily 
fainter.  He  sank  wearily  upon  a  doorstep  —  and 
was  ordered  away  by  an  offended  citizen  who  dis- 
approved of  his  presence.  He  leaned  for  a  moment 
against  a  lamp-post  to  rest  his  dizzy  head  on  the 
cool  iron.  A  pompous,  well-fed  policeman  moved 
him  along.  He  could  not  beg ;  and  never  knew 
how  to  steal.  He  could  only  drag  one  foot  after 
the  other,  and  wonder  inanely  where  he  was  going. 
Instinct  kept  him  near  the  river.  He  saw  ships ; 
they  were  familiar.  He  arrived  at  Fulton  market. 
The  appetizing  aroma  that  floated  out  from  the 
coffee  and  cake  stands  nearly  overcame  him.  Why 
did  he  not  snatch  even  one  from  the  great  stocks 
of  crisp,  brown  doughnuts  so  temptingly  displayed 
within  easy  reach  ?  It  may  have  been  heredity ; 
he  was  of  puritanical  descent.  He  feebly  hurried 
through  the  market  and  plodded  along  South  Street. 
It  was  evening.  He  had  been  long  on  the  way. 
The  six  o'clock  whistles  had  sent  forth  their  screech- 


ACROSS   THE   WESTERN   OCEAN  79 

ing  note,  warning  insatiate  capital  that  it  had 
squeezed  the  last  drop  of  perspiration  from  needy 
labor  for  that  day.  The  street  was  alive  with 
workmen  returning  to  their  homes. 

Sturdy  'longshoremen  swarmed  up  from  the  piers, 
rolling  down  the  sleeves  of  their  red  flannel  shirts, 
or  lighting  their  pipes  for  the  long-wished-for  first 
smoke  since  one  o'clock.  With  their  coats  thrown 
over  their  shoulders,  and  cotton  hooks  stuck  with  a 
technical  twist  in  their  leather  belts,  they  trudged 
sturdily  along,  talking  together  about  the  day's  work, 
or  heartily  cursing  the  foreman  for  a  slave-driver. 
Their  dull  faces  expressed,  if  not  pleasure,  at  least 
contentment.  They  had  a  job. 

A  gang  of  riggers  who  were  employed  in  setting 
up  the  rigging  on  a  new  ship,  followed  half  a  dozen 
caulkers,  all  smelling  wholesomely  of  tar,  all  home- 
ward bound,  and  all  safe,  at  least  from  starvation. 
The  mate  of  a  small  schooner,  who  was  "  keeping 
ship,"  locked  the  cabin  door,  took  a  final  glance 
about  the  decks  and  leaped  lightly  ashore.  He 
squared  his  necktie,  straightened  up  his  hat,  and 
went  into  a  restaurant  to  get  his  supper. 

In  all  that  throng  of  hundreds  of  men,  men  to 
whom  for  the  most  part  the  multiplication  table 
would  have  been  an  unsolvable  puzzle,  Tom  Benton, 
lately  son  of  a  well-to-do  sea-captain,  was  the  only 
one  helplessly  and  hopelessly  hungry. 


8O  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

On  a  half-tide  rock,  or'  in  the  middle  of  a  desert, 
he  could  not  have  been  more  alone.  He  was  rudely 
jostled  by  the  thoughtless  laborers,  any  one  of 
whom  would  willingly  have  shared  his  supper  with 
him.  To  avoid  the  crowd,  whose  very  energy 
wearied  him,  he  crossed  the  street  and  went  out 
on  the  pier.  At  last !  Why  had  he  not  thought 
of  it  before  ?  Here  he  could  rest.  He  sat  down 
on  the  stringpiece  and  leaned  against  a  pile.  It 
was  heavenly.  He  drew  his  tired  legs  under  him 
and  eased  the  aching  cords  and  muscles.  But  re- 
lief from  one  source  of  misery  enabled  him  to  con- 
centrate his  attention  on  another.  He  was  terribly 
hungry. 

From  where  he  sat  he  looked  directly  into  the 
galley  of  a  small  coasting  schooner.  The  cook 
was  busy  clearing  away  the  debris  from  his  day's 
work.  A  dim  lamp  suspended  from  a  bracket  on 
the  bulkhead  threw  his  shadow  out  to  where  Tom 
sat.  He  gathered  up  a  pan  of  scraps  —  bits  of 
stale  bread,  bones,  bits  of  gristle  and  fat,  potato 
peelings  and  tea-leaves.  He  approached  the  rail 
within  six  feet  of  where  Tom  sat.  Divining  his 
intention,  Tom,  his  shame  covered  by  the  kindly 
darkness,  cried  :  "  Hey,  doctor  !  Don't  throw  that 
overboard ;  give  it  to  me,  will  you  ? " 

"  Ven  you  don'd  goes  avay  from  dere,  I  gif  you 
somedings  vat  you  don'd  like,"  replied  the  cook,  as 


ACROSS   THE   WESTERN   OCEAN  8 1 

he  threw  to  the  East  River  eels  the  scraps  for 
which  Tom  would  have  been  so  grateful.  Re- 
turning to  the  galley,  he  picked  a  lump  of  coal  from 
the  scuttle,  and,  holding  the  lamp  above  his  head, 
he  threw  it  at  the  starving  boy,  cutting  a  painful 
gash  in  his  cheek.  Those  wharf  rats  would  steal 
anything  they  could  lay  their  hands  on. 

There  was  no  fight  in  Tom  Benton  now.  With- 
out a  word  he  arose  painfully  and  retraced  his 
steps  up  the  wharf.  Having  tasted  the  sweets  of 
temporary  rest,  he  resolved  to  have  more  of  it. 
Presently  he  came  to  a  place  where  at  some  time 
there  had  been  a  fire.  A  few  tottering  walls  and 
a  high  chimney  were  surrounded  by  a  dilapidated 
high  fence.  A  loose  board  showed  where  some  one 
had  effected  an  entrance ;  probably  the  street  boys 
in  pursuit  of  a  lost  ball.  It  was  now  quite  dark, 
though  a  crescent  moon,  fighting  its  way  through 
the  flying  scud,  threw  fitful  gleams  of  deceptive 
light  on  the  chaotic  scene  which  confronted  him 
as  he  emerged  from  the  broken  fence.  A  tangle 
of  weeds  and  thistles  flourished  among  the  debris 
of  bricks,  mortar,  twisted  iron  pipes,  and  shafting. 
Here  and  there,  a  pulley  or  other  piece  of  machinery, 
had,  by  the  inertia  of  its  dead  weight,  successfully 
defied  the  marauders.  A  ray  of  moonlight  showed  a 
well-defined  path  leading  from  the  place  of  entrance. 
Following  this  instinctively,  Tom  found  it  led  him 


82  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

to  the  interior  of  the  ruin,  and  while  groping  in 
the  darkness  he  fell,  through  a  hole  in  the  rotten 
floor,  to  the  cellar.  He  was  bruised  and  shaken, 
but  not  disabled.  As  he  regained  his  feet,  a  kindly 
moonbeam,  penetrating  the  mass  of  wreckage  above, 
fell  upon  the  open  door  of  a  boiler  furnace.  It 
seemed  like  the  finger  of  a  friend  pointing  the  way. 
He  felt  within  and  found  that  the  grate  bars  were 
covered  with  a  mass  of  dried  weeds,  old  bags,  and 
other  refuse.  Without  a  thought  that  he  might  be 
trespassing,  he  crawled  in  ;  and  with  a  deep-drawn 
sigh  of  thankfulness,  fell  at  once  into  a  restless, 
feverish  sleep. 

He  dreamed  horribly.  He  thought  he  lay  on 
his  belly  in  an  immense  dish-pan.  He  was  greedily 
devouring  the  swill  with  which  the  pan  was  partially 
filled,  when  a  gigantic  German  cook  discovered 

4ft 

him,  and  with  frightful  curses  seized  the  pan  and 
dumped  the  entire  contents  into  the  fire.  As  he 
was  clawing  wildly  at  the  slippery  edge  of  the 
pan,  a  husky  voice  said  in  a  whisper,  "  Is  dat 
you,  Patsey  ? " 

Tom  opened  his  eyes,  to  be  partially  blinded  by 
a  blazing  lucifer  match  held  close  to  his  face. 
Behind  it  was  a  frowzy  head  and  a  pair  of  fierce 
eyes.  The  German  cook's,  he  thought.  The  match 
was  hurriedly  extinguished,  and  he  heard  some  one 
backing  hastily  out  of  the  boiler.  There  was  a 


ACROSS  THE   WESTERN  OCEAN  83 

consultation  on  the  outside.  He  heard  the  scout 
say,  "  It's  one  o'  de  Gouverneur  Street  gang." 

A  short  whispered  colloquy  ensued.  Then  he 
was  seized  by  the  heels  and  dragged  violently  out. 
More  bumps  and  bruises,  and  sundry  patches  of 
skin  removed.  The  moon  was  now  obscured  by 
an  adjoining  building,  but  he  saw  that  his  captors 
were  three  boys,  smaller  and  more  ragged  than 
himself.  They  pitched  into  him  at  once,  thumping 
and  kicking  him  roundly.  He  was  unable  to  resist, 
and  fell  from  sheer  weakness.  Finding  him  so 
easily  subdued,  they  desisted,  stripped  off  his  coat 
and  shoes,  and  ordered  him,  with  much  profanity, 
to  "  light  out  o'  here ! "  As  he  did  not  comply 
immediately,  two  of  them  took  him  by  the  shoulders 
and  one  by  the  legs.  They  carried  him,  cursing 
horribly  at  his  weight,  to  the  hole  in  the  fence, 
swung  him,  —  once,  twice,  three  times,  —  and  tossed 
him  through. 

He  fell  heavily  on  his  back  upon  the  stone  pave- 
ment. A  pedestrian  who  was  hurrying  along  with 
hands  in  his  pocket  and  bowed  head  stumbled  over 
him.  He  was  a  slim,  under-sized,  poorly  dressed 
man  of  forty.  He  recovered  his  balance,  and  grasp- 
ing Tom  by  the  collar,  raised  him  to  his  feet. 

"'Ullo,  me  lad,"  said  he,  in  an  undeniable  Eng- 
lish accent,  "  w'at's  hup  ?  " 

Tom  looked  at  him  in  stupid  blankness  for  a  mo- 


84  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

ment.  It  was  a  kindly,  sympathetic  face  that  he 
saw  by  the  rays  of  a  neighboring  street  lamp. 
His  resolution  gave  way  at  the  first  expression  of 
kindly  interest  he  had  heard.  His  overpowering 
hunger  so  dwarfed  all  his  other  troubles  that  he 
lost  sight  of  them  entirely.  Tears  of  honest  shame 
suffused  his  eyes  as,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
he  begged. 

"I'm  nearly  starved  to  death ! "  he  cried  desper- 
ately. 

"Starved,  is  it?  Well,  I  can  'elp  ye  there,  lad. 
Come  down  to  my  place  an'  'ave  a  cup  o'  coffee 
an'  a  plate  o'  cakes.  I'll  not  see  ye  starve,  anyway. 
Were  did  ye  come  from?" 

"  Portland,"  replied  Tom,  weakly. 

"  No,  no ;  I  mean  w'en  ye  shot  out  ther'  on  the 
walk  like  that." 

"  I  dunno." 

"Ah,  poor  chap!  "  said  the  man  to  himself,  "  'e's 
that  'ungry  as  'e  doesn't  feel  like  chattin'.  I'll 
just  wait  till  'e's  'ad  a  bite." 

Presently,  they  stopped  before  one  of  the  coffee 
and  cake  stands  in  the  market  that  had  been  such 
a  sore  trial  to  Tom  the  day  before.  Jerry  was 
the  proprietor  of  this  one.  He  soon  had  the 
coffee  boiling  on  the  gas-stove,  while  Tom  glared 
ravenously  about,  inhaling  the  delicious  odors  of 
yesterday's  fried  fish.  In  a  minute  more  —  or  was 


ACROSS   THE   WESTERN   OCEAN  85 

it  a  dream  ?  —  he  sat  in  front  of  a  plate  of  butter- 
cakes,  flanked  by  a  cup  of  steaming  hot  coffee. 

It  was  good.  It  was  glorious.  But,  oh,  there  was 
so  little  of  it !  Jerry  guessed  where  the  trouble 
lay,  and  he  produced  another  plate  of  cakes. 
Though  greatly  refreshed,  Tom's  aching  void  was 
far  from  filled.  His  appetite  was  merely  whetted. 
But  he  was  so  grateful  that  he  restrained,  as  best 
he  could,  the  wolfish  looks  with  which  he  regarded 
his  new  friend,  who  was  now  regaling  himself  on 
ham  and  eggs. 

"  Ye  can  'elp  me  a  bit,  if  ye  will,  lad,  w'en  the 
men  comes  in  fer  breakfast,"  said  Jerry. 

Tom  told  him  he  would  be  only  too  happy. 
Presently  they  began  to  come ;  great,  fat,  rosy- 
cheeked  market-men ;  dressed  in  long,  woollen 
smocks ;  loud-voiced  and  jolly.  Some  had  big 
diamonds  in  their  shirts  or  on  their  fingers. 

"  Come,  Jerry,"  shouted  a  burly  butcher,  "  what's 
the  matter  now  ?  Cook  on  strike  ?  Or  has  the 
grocer  shut  down  on  ye  at  last?" 

"  Now,  then,  where's  them  cakes  ? "  came  from 
a  fish-dealer,  as  he  entered  the  door ;  "  I  ordered 
them  half  an  hour  ago.  If  you  don't  git  a  move 
on  ye,  we'll  all  git  filled  up  with  smell,  and  won't 
have  no  bill  to  pay." 

Jerry's  uniform  answer  to  all  this  good-humored 
chaffing  was  a  cheery:  "  Comin',  sir;  right  away, 


86  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

sir."  Being  both  cook  and  waiter,  he  was  extremely 
busy  for  an  hour  or  so ;  but  from  long  experience 
he  had  become  very  deft.  He  could  keep  half  a 
dozen  orders  cooking,  wait  on  tables,  and  allay 
the  impatience  of  his  customers,  without  becoming 
in  the  least  mixed.  He  set  Tom  to  washing  dishes. 
A  continual  stream  of  dirty  dishes  slid  along  the  oil- 
cloth-covered table  towards  the  sink ;  but  Tom 
hustled,  and  fairly  kept  his  end  up.  Jerry  showed 
him  a  tub  under  the  table  into  which  he  could  throw 
the  refuse ;  but  no  refuse  more  edible  than  egg- 
shells found  their  way  into  the  tub  that  morning. 
Sometimes,  but  not  often,  a  whole  cake  would 
reach  him,  and  once  he  got  a  rind  from  a  beef- 
steak. It  was  the  most  delicious  morsel  he  had 
ever  eaten,  only  too  tough  to  masticate,  so  he  gulped 
it  down  whole ;  merely  coughing  and  choking  a  little. 
When  the  breakfast  rush  was  over,  Jerry  gave 
Tom  instructions,  previous  to  going  out  to  do  the 
marketing  for  dinner.  He  told  him  where  there 
was  a  large  tub,  into  which  he  could  dump  the 
refuse  from  his  small  one.  Tom  found  the  large 
tub  nearly  full,  and  on  top  there  were  many  pieces 
of  stale  bread,  on  which  lay  a  great,  juicy,  boiled 
ham-rind.  The  stuff  was  not  dirty  nor  in  the  least 
fermented.  The  raw  edge  had  not  yet  been  taken 
from  Tom's  appetite ;  so  he  hurried  through  the 
duties  that  had  been  assigned  him,  and  then,  rub- 


ACROSS  THE  WESTERN  OCEAN         87 

bing  the  bits  of  bread  on  the  fine,  fat  ham-rind,  he 
proceeded  to  enjoy  himself  right  royally.  He  was 
startled  by  hearing  Jerry's  voice  right  behind  him. 

"Wat  ye  doin',  lad?"  it  asked. 

Tom  felt  the  hot  blood  rush  to  his  face.  He  was 
thankful  for  the  store  he  had  found,  but  he  was 
ashamed  to  be  caught  browsing  in  a  swill  tub. 

"  'Ere,"  said  Jerry,  handing  him  the  potato-masher, 
"  take  this,  an'  give  me  a  good  beatin' !  The  hidea 
o'  me,  as  gets  me  three  squares  hevery  day,  a  stuff- 
in'  o'  meself  wi'  'am  an'  heggs,  an'  leavin'  a  Chris- 
tian w'ite  man  to  rake  over  my  swill  barrel !  " 

Tom  protested  that  he  was  not  hungry  now,  as 
he  had  picked  up  quite  a  good  deal  from  the 
breakfast  plates. 

"  Ay !  There  it  is  agin !  Wuss  an'  more  on  it. 
Sit  ye  down  there  now  to  that  table!  An'  if  ye 
let  up  w'ile  yer  able  to  'old  another  mouthful,  s'elp 
me  I'll  cut  yer  'ead  off  wi'  this  'ere  dish-clout." 

Such  a  feast  as  followed  this  dire  threat,  Fulton 
Market  has  seldom  seen.  Jerry  fried  "  'am," 
"  heggs,"  and  "  taters."  He  piled  the  doughnuts 
and  butter-cakes  on  both  sides  of  Tom's  plate, 
and  maintained  a  generous  foot-bath  in  his  saucer. 
Tom  shovelled  and  ground  for  dear  life.  At  last, 
what  seemed  to  have  been  an  impossibility  was 
accomplished.  He  was  full.  Oh,  the  joy  of  it,  to 
be  able  to  decline  food ! 


88  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

When  this  record-breaking  meal  was  finished, 
Jerry  raked  out  from  somewhere  a  pair  of  old 
shoes,  —  very  old  they  were,  and  holey,  —  a  coat 
which  had  long  ago  been  discarded  and  had  only 
escaped  the  ragman  because  it  wasn't  worth  bother- 
ing with,  and  a  hat  which  in  all  respects  matched 
them. 

"Put  'em  on,  lad,"  said  he;  " they're  not  that 
fine  as  ye  needs  to  be  ashamed  on  'em,  an'  no  cop 
will  ever  arrest  ye  on  suspicion  of  'avin'  stole  'em 
from  John  Jacob  Hastor.  So  there's  good  p'ints 
about  'em,  a'ter  all,  ragged  as  they  is." 

They  now  had  an  interchange  of  confidences. 
Jerry  admitted  that  it  took  about  all  he  could  make 
to  keep  the  "  hoi'  woman  an'  the  kids."  Conse- 
quently he  could  neither  afford  the  luxury  of  an 
assistant  nor  a  reckless  indulgence  in  charity ; 
but  he  would  do  what  he  could  to  set  Tom  on  his 
feet.  At  dinner  that  day,  he  informed  his  cus- 
tomers that  any  employment  they  could  give  Tom 
he  would  consider  a  personal  favor.  Nobody  prom- 
ised anything,  while  a  butcher  remarked  that  there 
were  "too  many  bums  around  the  market  now, 
stealing  everything  they  could  lay  their  hands  on." 
Yet  he  was  the  first  to  give  Tom .  employment  and 
put  many  a  dime  in  his  way. 

Jerry  permitted  him  to  sleep  in  the  shanty  and 
gave  him  his  breakfast  for  washing  the  dishes. 


ACROSS  THE   WESTERN  OCEAN  89 

Tom  hustled  for  work  early  and  late.  No  job  was 
too  hard  or  too  dirty  for  him ;  and  as  he  never 
dickered  with  his  employer,  but  cheerfully  accepted 
such  recompense  as  they  saw  fit  to  offer,  he  became 
well  and  favorably  known.  That  he  was  strictly 
honest  goes  without  saying.  He  was  also  oblig- 
ing, polite,  and  grateful  for  small  favors.  Before 
a  month  had  passed,  "Jerry's  boy"  was  constantly 
in  demand.  He  was  a  feature  of  the  market.  He 
paid  Jerry  regularly  for  his  board,  and  tried  to 
pay  him  for  that  first  grand  meal ;  but  Jerry  said 
he  had  enjoyed  it  more  than  Tom  had,  so,  if  there 
was  any  balance,  it  was  the  other  way. 

Never  for  a  moment  did  Tom  lose  sight  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  to  go  to  sea  and  win  for  himself 
the  command  of  as  fine  a  ship  as  floated.  Many 
a  rose-tinted  dream  he  indulged  in  while  lying 
awake  on  Jerry's  table.  He  fancied  himself  sail- 
ing into  Portland  Harbor,  proudly  pacing  the  star- 
board side  of  the  poop  with  the  pilot.  And  when 

the    ship   ,    Benton,    Master,    was    reported,    he 

knew  just  how  Mr.  Bentick,  the  ship  chandler,  and 
Mr.  Ridgeway,  the  rigger  with  the  big  wart  on 
his  upper  lip,  would  peer  inquiringly  into  his  eyes, 
and,  hoping  to  establish  a  claim  of  previous  ac- 
quaintance with  the  captain  of  the  fine,  big  ship, 
ask,  "  Cap'n  Bent'n,  hai'n't  I  seen  you  before 
som'eres  ? " 


9O  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

But,  of  all  the  prospective  pleasures  in  which, 
he  indulged,  that  in  which  he  took  the  most  de- 
light, and  over  which  he  hugged  himself,  was  to 
be  the  look  of  surprise,  pride,  and  happy  congratu- 
lation in  the  brown  eyes  of  Kitty  Blake,  when  he 
should  welcome  her  on  board ;  thereby  proving 
himself  true  to  the  promise  he  had  made  her  when 
he  left.  But  Tom  was  blessed  with  the  rare  virtue 
of  common  sense.  Winter  was  approaching.  He 
had  no  clothes.  He  would  hang  on  to  the  market 
until  spring  at  least.  One  day,  while  on  an  errand, 
he  recognized  across  the  street  the  building  known 
to  him  as  the  Sailors'  Home.  Hooray !  Here  was 
luck !  He  would  demand  his  clothes.  But  the 
place  was  now  a  junk  shop.  He  entered  and 
found  an  aged  Hebrew  busily  sorting  rags.  His 
red,  watery  eyes  and  tangled  black  beard  were 
all  that  distinguished  him  from  the  frowsy  mound 
on  which  he  was  enthroned.  Tom  inquired  for 
the  former  occupant.  "  Vat  ? "  asked  the  old  Jew, 
stupidly  blinking  at  him  through  the  dust.  Tom 
made  his  request  for  information  concerning  Mike's 
whereabouts  a  little  more  explicit.  "  I  know  nod- 
ings,"  truthfully  replied  the  descendant  of  Moses. 

During  the  holiday  rush,  Tom  increased  his 
slender  stock  of  money  to  fifteen  dollars.  He 
continued  to  help  Jerry,  although  he  now  paid  his 
board  regularly,  and  when  the  biting  blasts  of 


ACROSS   THE   WESTERN   OCEAN  91 

winter  gave  way  to  the  gentle  airs  of  spring,  he 
began  to  consider  his  seagoing  plans  in  earnest. 
Jerry  told  him  plumply  that  he  was  a  fool. 

"Wat  better  could  yer  arsk,  than  w'at  yer  git- 
tin'?"  he  asked;  "three  square  meals  a  d'y,  an' 
money  in  yer  pocket.  Does  sailors  git  that?  Yer 
knows  better.  Leave  well  enough  alone,  say  I. 
Yer  learnin'  the  business ;  yer  quite  'andy  all 
ready.  Wat's  the  matter  wi'  another  coffee  an' 
cake  stand  down  ther'  at  the  corner?  Better'n 
goin'  ter  sea,  I  lay." 

But  Tom  was  ambitious.  Coffee  and  cakes  ? 
Bah !  He  would  be  a  captain.  Having  learned 
the  ropes  by  conversing  with  the  sailors  on  South 
Street,  he  entered  his  name  in  a  boarding-house, 
and  paid  a  week's  board  in  advance.  He  told  the 
proprietor  he  should  remain  at  Jerry's,  and  desired 
to  ship  for  China,  or  round  the  Horn.  Although 
he  called  at  the  house  daily,  it  was  three  weeks 
before  the  boarding-master  had  a  ship  for  him.  He 
told  Tom  that  he  had  waited  to  get  him  a  good  ship, 
and  had  succeeded  beyond  his  expectations.  She 
was  a  fine  one,  he  said ;  the  captain  was  a  nice, 
fatherly,  old  man,  and  the  mates,  his  sons,  were  just 
like  him.  Sunday  services  at  sea,  watch  and  watch 
the  whole  voyage ;  the  finest  of  grub,  and  no  pro- 
fanity nor  abuse  of  seamen  permitted.  She  was 
bound  for  Bombay,  so,  when  he  got  back,  he  would 


92  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

have  nine  or  ten  months'  pay  to  jingle  in  his  pocket 
"  And  when  you  come  home  with  money,  don't  fur- 
get  Andy  Mason,  who  got  the  best  ship  in  New  York 
for  you,"  he  added. 

Tom  promised  that  he  certainly  would  not,  and 
thanked  Mr.  Mason  very  heartily  for  his  kindness. 
He  also  apologized  for  any  impatience  he  might 
have  manifested  during  the  previous  three  weeks. 
Mr.  Mason  assured  him  that  he  had  not  taken  the 
matter  at  all  to  heart,  and  to  prove  it,  he  generously 
furnished  a  mattress  of  shavings,  a  tin  pot  and  pan, 
an  iron  spoon,  sheath  knife  and  belt,  and  a  huge 
plug  of  navy  tobacco,  in  lieu  of  Tom's  month's  ad- 
vance of  fourteen  dollars. 

When  the  wagon  drew  up  at  Jerry's,  and  Tom 
handed  up  his  new,  neatly  painted  chest,  it  was 
greeted  with  drunken  jeers  by  the  ragamuffins  in 
the  wagon.  Jerry  bade  him  a  reluctant  adieu. 
Tom  promised  that,  on  his  return  from  Bombay, 
he  would  set  his  friend  up  in  the  finest  stall  in  the 
market.  His  parting  from  this  one  true  friend, 
this  heart  of  gold,  was  the  only  drawback  to  his 
pleasure  at  being  once  more  afloat.  He  was -thor- 
oughly disgusted  with  his  new  shipmates,  who 
were  the  most  disreputable  gang  he  had  ever  seen ; 
drunken,  ragged,  and  dirty.  The  ship  having  been 
anchored  on  the  Jersey  flats,  they  were  transferred 
to  a  tug  at  the  wharf.  Tom  understood  that  he  had 


ACROSS  THE   WESTERN   OCEAN  93 

signed  for  the  ship  Chanticleer,  of  Boston,  but  he 
was  put  on  board  the  Montezuma,  an  old  rattle-trap 
Liverpool  packet.  He  protested,  and  was  told  to 
shut  up  or  have  his  head  knocked  loose. 

Packet-ship  lore  was  no  new  story  to  him.  He 
had  heard  it  over  and  over,  so,  knowing  he  was  in 
for  the  trip,  he  philosophically  decided  to  make  the 
best  of  the  bargain.  When  they  were  lined  up  at 
the  capstan,  the  mate  asked  the  shipping-master  if 
he  called  that  an  able  seaman,  indicating  Tom  by  a 
contemptuous  jerk  of  his  head.  "I  think  you  will 
find  me  quite  as  able  as  any  of  them,  sir,"  Tom 
piped  up  boldly.  "  I  will,  hey  ? "  replied  the  mate, 
with  a  surly  scowl. 

The  crew  having  answered  to  their  alleged  names, 
the  windlass  was  ordered  to  be  manned.  Then 
the  regulation  packet  scenes  were  enacted.  The 
fatherly  captain  contented  himself  principally  with 
roaring  curses  at  all  hands,  though  he  was  not  averse 
to  filling  in  with  fists  or  boots,  when  any  of  the 
drunken  wretches  came  conveniently  near.  His 
equally  refined  mates,  being  from  the  nature  of  their 
duties,  in  the  thick  of  it,  hammered,  kicked,  and 
cursed  the  men  for  everything  or  nothing ;  and  not  a 
man  returned  even  a  protest.  Tom,  being  sober  and 
agile,  found  no  difficulty  in  evading  the  abuse.  He 
made  it  his  business  to  jump  at  the  word,  and,  being 
the  only  thorough  seaman  in  the  crew,  the  mates 


94  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

spotted  him  before  the  ship  was  under  way.  When 
the  pilot  called  for  a  man  at  the  helm,  Tom  was 
half-way  up  the  main  rigging. 

"  Come  down  here,  bantam,  and  take  the  wheel !  " 
shouted  Mr.  Burlingame,  the  chief  mate. 

Not  having  distinctly  understood  the  order,  Tom 
dropped  lightly  from  the  sheerpole  behind  the  big 
mate's  back,  who  was  now  attending  to  something 
else. 

"Did  you  call  me,  sir?"  asked  Tom,  stepping 
round  in  front  of  him. 

"  Git  aft  there  to  the  wheel !  "  yelled  the  mate, 
furiously.  He  raised  his  acrobatic  toe,  but  Tom 
was  half-way  up  the  poop  ladder. 

That  was  the  nearest  he  ever  came  to  receiving 
bodily  chastisement  aboard  the  Montesuma.  The 
mate,  in  whose  watch  he  was,  came  to  depend  on 
him  unconsciously.  When  he  knew  Tom  —  or  "  the 
bantam,"  as  he  called  him — to  be  on  lookout,  or 
at  the  wheel,  or  on  a  yard,  furling  a  sail,  he  felt  that 
his  profanity  could  be  reserved  for  a  more  fit  occasion. 
Tom  escaped  the  heaviest  of  the  pulling  and  haul- 
ing incident  to  getting  a  big  ship  under  way,  and 
no  doubt  many  a  stray  thump,  by  being  at  the 
wheel.  The  crew  were  inclined  to  practise  on  each 
other  the  treatment  served  by  the  officers  to  them. 
Tom  being  neither  drunk  nor  ragged,  they  despised 
him.  The  fact  that  he  had  passed  through  the 


ACROSS  THE   WESTERN   OCEAN  95 

ceremony  of  initiation  with  a  whole  skin,  while  they 
—  veterans  though  they  were  —  had  all  been  soundly 
drubbed,  exasperated  them.  He  was  young  to  be 
rated  as  an  able  seaman,  and  small,  so  they  decided 
he  should  be  their  meat. 

The  port  watch  were  ordered  to  supper.  As 
they  hungered  only  for  whiskey,  the  big  pan  of 
hash  was  slighted.  Having  no  whiskey,  they  enter- 
tained themselves  by  cursing  the  ship,  her  officers, 
and  their  own  bad  luck  in  being  there.  One 
bleary  ruffian,  seeing  Tom  sitting  on  the  only  chest 
in  the  forecastle  quietly  eating  his  supper,  seized 
him  by  the  collar  and  threw  him  half-way  across 
the  place,  saying  :  "  Git  up,  you  !  Time  enough  for 
you  to  set  down  when  they  ain't  no  men  stannin'  up." 

Knowing  them  to  be  more  or  less  under  the  in- 
fluence of  liquor,  Tom  said  nothing,  but  seated  him- 
self on  the  edge  of  a  bunk  to  finish  his  supper. 
Presently  the  bully  tried  to  open  the  chest.  Find- 
ing it  locked,  he  glared  savagely  around,  and,  in 
a  tone  intended  to  be  terror-inspiring,  asked :  — 

"  Whose  donkey  is  dis  ?  " 

"  Mine,"  replied  Tom,  quietly. 

"What's  it  locked  for?" 

"  Because  I  chose  to  have  it  so." 

"Ye  do,  hey?  Wa't's  de  matter?  do  ye  t'ink 
we'se  t'ieves  ?  Unlock  dat  donkey,  'fore  I  kick 
it  open !  " 


96  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"I'll  unlock  it  when  I  see  fit,  and  you  won't  kick 
it  open,  either,"  replied  Tom,  jumping  down  from 
his  perch,  and  laying  his  pot,  pan,  and  spoon  down 
on  the  deck. 

Without  more  ado,  the  big  fellow  raised  his  foot 
to  kick  the  chest  open.  In  doing  so,  he  was  obliged 
to  turn  his  back  to  Tom,  who  leaped  lightly  upon 
his  shoulders.  The  ship  gave  a  lurch  in  the  nick 
of  time.  Together,  they  pitched  over  the  chest 
into  the  empty  bunk  beyond.  The  bully's  head 
struck  the  side  of  the  house  and  knocked  him  sense- 
less. Tom  dragged  him  out,  and,  tumbling  him 
on  the  deck,  asked,  as  he  stood  defiantly  on  his 
chest,  "Anybody  else  want  to  take  a  hand  at 
kicking  this  donkey  open  ?" 

Just  then,  the  third  mate  flung  the  door  open, 
and  called  them  to  relieve  the  starboard  watch. 
He  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and  indorsed 
the  mate's  sagacity  in  christening  Tom  "  The  Ban- 
tam." Tom's  accidental  victory  over  big  Bryan  by 
no  means  subdued  the  watch.  As  they  sobered  up, 
their  true  characters  appeared.  While  arrant  cow- 
ards, they  were  equally  arrant  bullies — when  they 
thought  it  would  work.  They  felt  Tom's  locked 
chest  a  reflection  upon  their  characters.  He,  be- 
lieving his  clothes  safer  under  lock  and  key  than 
they  would  be  entrusted  to  his  watch-mates'  sense 
of  honesty,  kept  it  locked.  To  soothe  their  tender 


ACROSS  THE  WESTERN   OCEAN  97 

feelings,  he  licked  them  one  after  another,  when 
they  expostulated.  Before  the  Montezumds  anchor 
grappled  with  the  Mersey  mud,  he  had  relieved  the 
overwrought  feelings  of  nearly  all  of  them,  and  his 
chest  was  taken  ashore  still  locked. 

As  Tom  had  no  intention  of  sailing  in  any  other 
than  American  ships,  he  returned  to  New  York 
in  another  packet.  He  passed  through  a  very 
similar  experience,  and  arrived,  about  three  months 
after  his  departure,  without  a  cent  of  money,  and 
his  clothes  much  the  worse  for  wear.  He  was 
ashamed  to  call  on  Jerry ;  for  that  good  soul  was 
not  above  the  weakness  which  derives  comfort  from 
repeating  the  moth-eaten  phrase  "  I  told  you  so  !  " 
He  pursued  the  only  course  open  to  him :  he  went 
with  the  rest  of  the  crew  to  a  sailors'  boarding- 
house,  where  they  were  received  for  what  could 
be  got  out  of  their  advanced  wages  when  shipped 
again.  During  his  brief  stay  in  port,  Tom  came  across 
Mike,  the  former  proprietor  of  the  "  Sailors'  Home." 
Tom  asked  Mike  eagerly  if  he  remembered  him. 

"  Why,  sure  !  "  replied  that  worthy.     "  What  ship  ? " 

"The  Raven." 

"  The  Raven?     Why,  she's  been  in  port  a  week." 

"Yes." 

"  Oh,  then  you've  got  a  boarding-house?" 

"  Yes ;  I'm  stopping  at  Kelley's.  Whatever  be- 
came of  my  dunnage  that  I  left  at  your  place  ? " 


98  TOM    BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  Dunnage  ?  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  no  dun- 
nage. You  didn't  leave  no  dunnage  here.  I  never 
saw  ye  afore.  I  thought  at  first  ye  was  Billy  Adams 
what  went  to  Frisco  las'  year  in  the  Gamecock.  I 
guess  you've  made  a  mistake  in  your  bearin's,  young 
feller.  Best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  go  back  ter 
Kelley's ;  I  don't  want  ye  round  here.  I  got  no 
time  ter  listen  ter  cock-and-bull  stories  'bout  lost 
dunnage.  Come,  clear  out !  " 

In  ten  days  Tom  was  off  again,  bound  for  Havre, 
where  he  repeated  his  Liverpool  experience ;  re- 
maining a  week  ashore,  and  shipping  for  Galves- 
ton.  He  had  a  long  passage  to  Galveston,  with 
the  result  that  there  were  a  few  dollars  due  him 
when  he  arrived,  enabling  him  to  partly  replenish 
his  wardrobe.  Tom  despised  the  miserable  wretches 
with  whom  he  sailed  in  these  ships,  but  he  loved 
the  western  ocean.  He  was  young  and  strong,  and 
'it  filled  him  with  enthusiasm  to  see  the  gallant  old 
ships  bang  and  buffet  their  way  to  the  westward. 
Fighting  their  way  through  the  northern  pas- 
sage, that  '  region  of  continuous  gales,  of  fog, 
snow,  and  ice,  they  challenged  the  endurance 
of  the  toughest  men  in  the  business,  and  it  de- 
lighted him,  rousing  all  the  fire  and  combativeness 
in  his  nature.  When  reefing,  he  never  allowed 
any  man  to  get  ahead  of  him  at  the  weather  earring. 
Astride  the  yard-arm,  high  in  the  air,  the  gale 


ACROSS   THE   WESTERN   OCEAN  99 

howling  and  shrieking  at  his  back,  the  sleet  driv- 
ing past  like  a  volley  from  Catling  guns,  filling 
his  seaboots,  and  penetrating  every  rag  on  him, 
Tom  Benton  was  in  his  glory.  With  a  half-turn 
of  the  earring  round  his  neck,  he  would  straighten 
his  powerful  back,  and  bawl  out,  "  Haul  out  to 
wind'ard!"  and,  when  he  had  the  dog's-ear  fast, 
he  would  send  the  word  flying  like  a  trumpet-note 
along  the  yard,  "  Haul  out  to  leeward !  " 

At  such  times  he  felt  like  a  young  storm-king, 
and  would  not  have  exchanged  places  with  the  cap- 
tain. He  became  fairly  well  known,  and  was  in- 
variably well  liked  by  those  who  had  sense  enough 
to  treat  him  fairly.  He  stayed  nearly  two  years 
in  the  business,  but  the  sturdy  Puritan  .blood  that 
flowed  in  his  veins  saved  him  from  becoming 
contaminated  by  his  vile  associates,  while  the  train- 
ing he  received  was  of  incalculable  value  to  him 
in  after  years.  Occasionally  an  ambitious  second 
or  third  mate  would  attempt  to  use  him  according 
to  the  custom  of  packet  ships,  but  they  soon 
learned  that  he  was  a  first-rate  man  to  let  alone. 
He  was  offered  promotion,  but  declined.  Packet- 
ship  style  did  not  appeal  to  him.  He  knew  he 
was  in  the  business  only  temporarily,  and  when 
the  opportunity  offered,  he  would  quit  it. 


CHAPTER  VII 

TOM  TAKES  A  RUN  TO  BOSTON CAPTAIN  BEEBE 

ABAFT  THE  STICK  AT  LAST A  RAGING  CALM  — 

A   SUBMARINE   EARTHQUAKE THE  WORK   OF   THE 

TIDAL  WAVE THE  CREW  REFUSE  TO  PUMP "l*LL 

TURN  'EM  TO  PER  YE!"  —CAPSIZED 

ONE  day  as  Tom  was  idling  along  West  Street, 
he  met  a  former  shipmate. 

"Hello,  Tom!" 

"  Hello,  Larry!     What's  the  good  word?" 

"  Oh,  nothin'  much  !     Got  a  ship  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  bother  about  ships ;  let  the  board- 
ing-master attend  to  that.  He's  more  interested 
than  I  am  —  he  gets  the  money.  All  I  get  is  the 
privilege  of  doing  the  work." 

"  I  jest  shipped  for  Boston." 

"  Boston  ? " 

"  Yep,  —  by  the  run,   ye   know,  —  fifteen   dollars 
for  the  run,  — Jane  Spofford,  —  deep-water    ship,  — 
b'longs  in  Boston." 

At  the  name  of  Boston,  Tom's  heart  gave  a 
bound ;  it  seemed  almost  like  home.  He  asked 
Larry  if  the  ship  had  got  her  full  complement  of 
men. 

100 


THE  TIDA1X 

"  I  b'lieve  not,"  replied  Larry.  "  Ye  see  the 
old-timers  don't  care  to  leave  York,  not  for  Boston, 
anyway.  Pretty  slow  town,  I've  heerd." 

"Where  are  the  articles?" 

"  In  Van  Hoesen's  ship  chandlery,  jest  this  side 
o'  Washington  Market." 

"  Guess  I'll  go  up  and  see.  We  may  be  shipmates 
again.  Will  ye  come  along?" 

"  No,  no,  Tom,  you're  a  good  shipmate;  but  no 
teetotalers  for  me.  There's  a  homeward-bound 
crew  down  at  the  boardin'-house,  and  booze  to 
swim  in.  I'm  goin'  to  have  one  more  good  blow-out 
'fore  I  leave  for  Bean  Town." 

"  All  right,  then  ;  so  long !  " 

Ten  minutes  later,  Tom  signed  his  name  to 
the  Spofford's  articles  right  under  Larry's.  The 
ship  being  in  ballast,  and  Captain  Beebe  in  a 
hurry  to  get  home,  there  was  lots  of  sail  drill 
during  the  four  days'  passage.  With  his  usual 
ardor,  Tom  took  the  lead.  He  gave  out  the 
"  shanties"  on  the  topsail  halyards,  and  showed 
the  runners  the  way  aloft.  As  Captain  Beebe 
worked  the  ship  himself,  he  noticed  and  liked  the 
young  fellow  ;  but  he  had  his  doubts  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  any  good  thing  coming  from  "  York." 
The  short  run  over,  and  the  ship  fast,  the  crew 
were  called  into  the  cabin  and  paid  off.  Tom's 
name  was  the  last. 


IO2  ,     ;   TQM   ^ENTON'S   LUCK 

"Thomas  Benton !  " 

"Here,   sir." 

The  captain  fumbled  with  the  bills  until  all  the 
others  had  left  the  cabin.  Then,  without  looking 
up,  he  asked  carelessly  :  — 

"  Where  do  you  hail  from,  Benton  ?  " 

"  Portland,  sir." 

"  Portland,  hey  ?  I  used  to  know  some  Bentons 
down  there.  Ever  know  Cap'n  Joe  Benton  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  No  relation,  I  s'pose  ?  " 

"  He  was  my  father,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  quietly. 

"  Hey  ?  Your  father  ?  What  Joe  Benton  was 
that  ? "  asked  the  old  fellow,  craftily. 

"  Captain  Joseph  Benton,  of  the  ship  Columbia,  of 
Portland,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  proudly. 

Captain  Beebe  turned  and  faced  Tom  squarely. 
"You  don't  say  !  "  he  exclaimed.  Then,  as  he  gazed 
for  a  moment  into  the  honest,  gray  eyes,  —  "Yes,  I 
might  ha'  known  it.  It's  a  wonder  I  didn't  notice 
the  resemblance  before ;  but  you  see  I  didn't  know 
any  of  your  names  till  I  come  to  pay  off.  Sit  right 
down  here,  Tom  Benton !  Your  father  and  I  went  to 
school  together,  and  went  to  sea  together,  too,  when 
we  were  boys.  I  haven't  seen  him  but  once  in 
fifteen  years ;  that  was  five  or  six  years  ago  in  Rio. 
Were  you  with  him  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     You  may  have  heard  that  our  carpen- 


THE  TIDAL   WAVE  1 03 

ter  was  sick  in  the  hospital  with  yellow  fever,"  replied 
Tom,  desiring  to  identify  himself  beyond  a  doubt. 

"Yes,  I  remember,  and  Captain  Joe  wouldn't  leave 
him  —  took  him  along  in  spite  of  the  protests  of  the 
whole  crew.  Did  he  live  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,  he  lived,  and  remained  in  the  ship 
till  father  died,  three  years  ago  next  month." 

"  Sho  !  You  don't  tell  me  Joe  Benton  is  dead  ?  I 
never  heard  a  word  of  it.  You  have  lost  a  good 
father,  Tom  !  I'm  awfully  sorry  !  Joe  Benton  was 
a  good  square  man,  and  as  fine  a  seaman  as  ever 
stepped  aboard  a  ship.  Did  he  teach  you  naviga- 
tion ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir.  I  was  only  seventeen  when  he 
died,  but  I  took  the  ship  home." 

"Well  done,  my  boy,  well  done!  I'll  bet  you're  a 
chip  of  the  old  block.  But  how  is  it  you're  out  here 
in  York  before  the  mast  ?  I  should  have  thought 
Cap'n  Blake  would  have  hung  on  to  ye." 

"  He  didn't,"  replied  Tom,  bitterly. 

"  Well,  that's  strange !  Did  ye  sell  out  your 
father's  stock  in  the  line  ?  Or  do  you  hold  that 
yet  ? " 

"  It's  a  long  story,  Captain  Beebe.  I  believe,  and 
always  shall,  that  Captain  Blake  robbed  me.  I  can't 
prove  it,  though,  so  it's  hardly  worth  while  to  talk 
about  it.  At  any  rate  he  discharged  me,  and  drove 
me  out  of  Portland,  after  I  had,  with  the  help  of  that 


104  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

same  carpenter  you  spoke  of,  taken  the  ship  from 
the  mates,  who  were  going  to  wreck  her  near  St. 
Thomas,  and  brought  her  safe  home.  For  the  last 
two  years  and  a  half  I've  had  a  pretty  tough  row  to 
hoe  down  there  in  New  York.  That's  why  I  took 
this  run  —  to  get  away  from  there.  I  thought  I 
might  do  better  in  Boston." 

"What  ye  been  doin' ?  " 

Tom  related  his  adventures,  and  the  old  gentle- 
man remarked :  "  My,  but  I  should  say  you  had 
had  a  rocky  row  to  hoe !  What  ye  goin'  to  do 
now?" 

"Ship  again,  sir." 

"  Don't  ye  think  you've  been  'fore  the  mast 
most  long  enough  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  I  think  I  have.  I  knew  the  business 
just  as  well  before  I  ever  went  before  it,  as  I  do 
now ;  though  I  do  believe  that  the  experience  of 
these  last  two  years  has  done  me  good.  I've  had 
the  actual  practice  now." 

"Yes,  that's  right,  and  in  a  hard  school,  too  — 
the  hardest  there  is.  Well,  now  I'll  tell  you  what 
I  think  you'd  better  do.  You  stay  right  here  and 
keep  ship  for  me  until  I'm  ready  for  sea.  Then 
I'll  —  well,  I'll  do  something.  What  do  you  say?" 

Tom  not  only  accepted  the  offer,  but  thanked 
the  captain  heartily,  and  entered  with  his  usual 
vigor  upon  his  new  duties  at  once. 


THE  TIDAL   WAVE  1 05 

Captain  Josiah  Beebe  was  a  typical  Yankee 
skipper.  Long,  lean,  and  leathery,  he  was  as 
tough  as  a  hickory  knot.  He  was  a  humane  man 
to  his  crew,  provided  they  had  sense  enough  to 
allow  him  to  be  so.  But,  though  of  a  kindly 
disposition,  he  was  by  no  means  lacking  in  those 
prime  qualities  in  a  ship's  officer,  —  rapid  decision, 
fearlessness,  and  the  ability  to  exercise  necessary 
severity,  —  which  are  frequently  called  by  well-mean- 
ing but  ignorant  persons  on  shore,  brutality.  Had 
he  been  otherwise,  he  would  not  have  commanded 
the  Spofford  for  twenty  years  as  he  did. 

Mechanical  refrigerating  not  having  become  a 
commercial  factor  in  those  days,  the  cabalistic  in- 
itials B.  I.  C.  (Boston  Ice  Company)  were  familiar 
in  nearly  all  tropical  countries ;  and  the  wealthy 
East  Indian  nabobs  gladly  paid  gilt-edged  prices 
for  the  clear,  sparkling  ice  which  the  severe  New 
England  winters  froze  to  a  depth  of  several  feet. 
For  years  the  ice  trade  with  India  was  an  im- 
portant industry. 

A  venturesome  skipper  took  fifty  barrels  of 
Baldwin  apples  out  "on  spec'."  When  he  returned, 
he  reported  an  incipient  riot  in  Calcutta  on  the 
news  of  his  venture  becoming  known.  The  Anglo- 
Indians —  their  appetites  jaded  by  years  of  rich 
tropical  fruit  —  hailed  the  advent  of  apples  with 
eagerness.  This  report  caused  a  flurry  in  the 


IO6  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

maritime  circles  of  Boston,  Salem,  and  Portland. 
Several  ships  were  laden  with  full  cargoes  of  apples 
and  despatched  to  India.  Owing  to  the  long  tropi- 
cal voyage,  they  arrived  with  their  cargoes  com- 
pletely decayed,  and  thereafter  apples  were  a 
delicate  subject  with  down-east  shippers. 

Captain  Beebe  proposed  taking  a  cargo  of  ice 
and  apples  combined,  arguing  that  the  ice  would 
preserve  the  apples.  An  objection  was  raised  that 
they  might  arrive  frozen.  To  this  he  replied  that 
he  hoped  they  would,  as  he  would  then  be  able 
to  dispose  of  them  at  a  dollar  apiece.  Having 
gained  his  point,  he  stowed  the  apples  in  the  fore 
peak  and  the  after-run,  securing  them  by  bulk- 
heads. He  took  up  the  between-deck  planks  in 
the  midship  section  of  her,  and  stowed  the  ice 
from  the  ballast  up.  This  would  allow  it  to  drain 
to  the  pumps,  and  settle  down  as  it  melted,  keep- 
ing her  stiff  for  the  passage  round  the  Cape,  and 
through  the  monsoons. 

Before  the  cargo  was  half  in,  he  assigned  Tom 
to  the  second  mate's  berth,  and  shipped  a  young 
fellow  by  the  name  of  Gregg  for  mate.  Mr.  Gregg 
was  an  Englishman,  but  he  had  always  sailed  in 
American  ships,  and  was  a  fine  young  fellow.  He 
and  Tom  became  quite  chummy  at  once.  The 
cargo  being  in,  a  crew  were  shipped,  and  once 
more  the  Jane  Spofford  took  the  familiar  road  to 


TOM  IN  HIS  GLORY. 


THE  TIDAL   WAVE  IO/ 

India.  She  had  light  and  baffling  winds  from  the 
start.  When  she  finally  dawdled  out  of  the  north- 
east trades  into  the  doldrums,  she  should  have 
been  across  the  line,  but  was  not  within  a  dozen 
degrees  of  it.  She  rolled  about  for  two  weeks 
in  the  warm  water,  under  the  broiling  sun  of 
those  latitudes ;  the  pitch  frying  out  of  the  decks, 
and  all  hands  gasping  for  breath.  Morning,  noon, 
and  night,  there  was  the  same  clear  blue  sky 
overhead,  and  the  same  glassy,  unruffled  sea  below. 
The  sea  had  lost  even  the  gently  heaving  swell, 
which,  like  the  feeble  pulse  of  an  invalid,  proves 
that  life  at  least  remains.  Not  a  sail  flapped. 
A  lighted  candle  would  have  burned  itself  out  on 
her  main  truck.  Her  jibboom  end  would  hardly 
sweep  a  quarter  of  the  horizon  in  twenty-four 
hours. 

It  was  a  horrible,  sickening,  raging  calm  —  and 
HOT.  The  ice  melted  rapidly.  The  men  were 
required  to  pump,  but  not  asked  to  do  any  other 
work.  As  Captain  Beebe  saw  the  profits  of  the 
voyage  pouring  from  the  nozzle  of  the  pump,  he 
gritted  his  teeth  and  abused  the  weather  with  a 
Yankee  heartiness  that  was  good  to  hear,  in  that 
enervating,  depressing,  killing  calm. 

One  afternoon  a  slight  dinginess  appeared  on  the 
western  horizon.  Between  the  pumping  spells,  the 
men  would  lean,  gasping,  over  the  rail,  and  argue 


108  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

in  a  desperate,  hopeless  way,  on  the  prospect  of  a 
breeze.  A  little  after  six  bells,  a  great  black  head 
rose  out  of  the  smudge  and  rapidly  approached 
the  zenith.  Torn  had  the  watch  stand  by  royal 
and  topgallant  halliards.  The  port  watch  crawled 
out  of  the  stifling  forecastle,  where  they  were  vainly 
trying  to  sleep,  and  lent  a  hand.  The  squall  was 
furious  while  it  lasted,  —  only  a  couple  of  minutes, 
—  but  the  deluge  of  rain  revived  all  hands. 

The  backbone  of  the  calm  was  now  broken, 
and  they  entered  upon  that  ever-varying,  yet  dis- 
tressingly similar,  succession  of  drenching  squalls, 
succeeded  by  broiling  spells,  which  are  the  distin- 
guishing feature  of  the  doldrums.  As  it  is  on  these 
unreliable  little  spits  of  wind  that  ships  must  depend 
to  fan  them  across  this  ocean  Sahara,  the  SpofforcFs 
crew  now  had  to  brace  yards,  and  haul  sheets,  and 
tack  constantly  to  catch  every  whiff  of  it.  To 
save  the  men  as  much  as  possible,  Tom  and  the 
carpenter  rigged  a  windmill  to  operate  the  pump. 
There  was  not  wind  enough  to  do  it  all,  but  it 
helped. 

One  morning,  a  little  after  three  bells,  there  was 
heard  a  strange,  hollow  roaring,  or  rather  moaning. 

The  ship  trembled,  and  the  blocks  and  gear 
rattled,  as  though  she  were  scraping  over  a  reef. 
All  hands  scrambled  on  deck.  As  Tom  came  upon 
the  poop,  Captain  Beebe's  bald  head  rose  through 


THE  TIDAL   WAVE  1 09 

the  after-companion  like  a  harvest  moon.  The  sea, 
which  was  rolling  in  a  lazy  ground-swell,  had  be- 
come churned  to  froth.  It  spurted  in  jets  as  though 
a  thousand  whales  were  spouting.  Mr.  Gregg  was 
clutching  a  backstay  and  looking  as  though  he  had 
seen  a  ghost.  A  second  shock  threw  Tom,  who 
had  no  hold  on  anything,  to  the  deck,  bruising 
him  painfully.  The  wheel  got  away  from  the 
helmsman  and  flew  round  like  a  buzz  saw. 

Mr.  Gregg  ran  to  the  helmsman's  assistance,  and 
Captain  Beebe  shouted  to  Tom  to  clew  up  every- 
thing. He  later  ordered  her  put  under  close-reefed 
topsails,  saying  the  disturbance  was  due  to  a  sub- 
marine earthquake,  and  there  was  no  telling  what 
might  come  of  it  yet.  The  stars  were  becoming 
obscured  —  not  by  clouds,  but  by  a  thin,  smoke- 
like  haze,  although  it  was  perfectly  clear  at  the 
surface  of  the  sea.  While  shortening  sail,  the 
obscurity  overhead  became  complete.  The  captain 
had  gone  below,  and  Mr.  Gregg  was  forward.  Tom 
stepped  aft  and  took  a  look  at  the  compass.  The 
early  tropical  dawn  was  just  beginning  to  show,  al- 
though the  stars  were  obscured.  As  Tom  glanced 
ahead,  the  horizon  appeared  unnaturally  near.  He 
watched  it  wonderingly,  when  suddenly  he  saw  a 
line  of  white  foam  extending  across  the  bows.  Then 
he  remembered  that  tidal  waves  frequently  accom- 
pany earthquakes.  The  line  of  foam  was  nearer ; 


110  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

he  could  see  it  curl  and  hear  the  roaring  of  it. 
He  shouted  to  all  hands  to  hold  fast,  took  a  turn 
around  himself  with  a  rope,  and  hung  on  for  dear 
life,  just  as  Captain  Beebe  leaped  on  deck  and 
caught  hold  of  a  backstay. 

Although  it  was  a  flat  calm,  the  wave  came  on 
like  a  cannon  shot.  The  side  toward  the  ship  was 
concave,  like  the  surf  that  runs  in  on  the  beach, 
and  its  frothy  top  appeared  above  the  topsail  yard 
before  it  struck.  As  the  ship  lay  there  inert  — 
dead,  it  washed  clear  over  her.  The  helmsman 
was  driven  through  the  taffrail,  overboard.  Mr. 
Gregg  and  three  men  were  washed  away  —  killed 
instantly,  probably ;  and  four  other  men  were  in- 
jured. These  casualties  were  learned  afterwards; 
for  during  the  next  few  minutes,  no  man  had  a 
thought  for  his  shipmates.  The  first  sea  set  the 
ship  to  pitching  slightly.  She  rose  almost  perpen- 
dicularly on  the  next.  As  Tom  hung  on,  gasping, 
blinded,  and  half  dead,  he  felt  a  solid  shock  in  the 
hull  under  him.  The  ice  had  fetched  away  and 
slid  aft  into  the  run,  ripping  out  stanchions,  spring- 
ing beams,  and  sending  a  tremor  through  the 
masts.  Tom  thanked  Heaven  fervently  that  the 
run  was  filled  with  apples.  Otherwise,  the  force 
of  the  wedge-shaped  mass  of  ice  might  have  split 
the  old  ship  in  two. 

When   she    pitched   over   the   crest  of   the  wave 


THE  TIDAL   WAVE  III 

and  plunged  headlong  down  the  other  side,  the  ice 
shifted  forward,  stove  the  forward  bulkhead,  and 
mashed  to  pulp  the  apples  stowed  in  the  peak. 
On  account  of  its  previous  movement  aft,  it  had 
sufficient  leeway  to  strain  her  and  start  a  leak. 
The  third  and  last  of  these  awful  seas  caught  her, 
and,  as  she  climbed  wearily  over  it,  that  internal 
iceberg  could  be  heard  and  felt,  as  it  slid  back  and 
forth,  trying  to  ram  the  bows  and  stern  out  of  her. 
Captain  Beebe  ordered  the  carpenter  to  sound  the 
well.  A  stiff  gale  had  come  on  while  the  big  seas 
were  occupying  the  attention  of  the  crew;  so,  be- 
ing short-handed,  everything  was  furled  except  the 
fore  topmast  staysail  and  the  main  spencer.  The 
helm  was  lashed  alee,  and  all  who  were  able 
went  to  the  pumps,  for  the  carpenter  had  reported 
twenty-six  inches  in  her. 

The  crew  were  in  bad  shape  to  make  a  long 
fight  of  it.  Besides  the  fact  that  their  vitality  was 
low,  owing  to  the  long  spell  of  hard  work  during 
the  recent  enervating  weather,  nearly  every  man 
had  been  more  or  less  bruised  by  the  first  sea  that 
boarded  her.  As  they  wearily  clanked  the  pump 
brakes  up  and  down  all  day,  the  carpenter  made  a 
discouraging  half-hourly  report :  the  water  was  gain- 
ing—  slowly  but  steadily.  The  gale  increased  un- 
til it  blew  with  hurricane  force.  Captain  Beebe 
hoped  to  keep  her  afloat  through  the  gale,  when  he 


112  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

might  make  a  port,  or  even  an  anchorage.  While 
daylight  lasted,  however,  he  resolved  to  prepare  for 
the  worst.  He  took  two  men  from  the  pumps  and 
provisioned  the  long-boat.  After  hours  of  infinite 
labor,  hooking  his  tackles  "  luff  upon  luff,"  and 
taking  the  falls  to  the  main-deck  capstan,  he  got 
her  overboard  and  let  her  ride  astern  by  a  long  line. 

Just  before  dark,  Tom,  who  was  doing  yeoman's 
service  at  the  pump,  noticed  a  bit  of  apple  come 
from  the  nozzle  and  go  rolling  about  the  deck.  As 
he  watched  he  saw  more.  Presently  they  came 
thick  and  fast.  He  gathered  up  a  handful  and 
took  them  down  to  the  captain. 

"Aha!"  exclaimed  Captain  Beebe,  as  he  rubbed 
some  of  the  mashed  apples  anxiously  between  his 
thumb  and  finger,  "I've  been  expectin'  that.  Have 
the  men  noticed  it?" 

"I  don't  know  sir;  at  any  rate,  I  haven't  heard 
them  say  anything  about  it." 

"  Well,  we  must  keep  the  pump  goin'  as  long  as 
we  can.  When  we  can't  do  any  more,  we'll  leave 
her." 

When  Tom  returned  to  the  deck,  he  found  the 
apples  already  coming  up  in  a  thick,  mushy  mess, 
like  apple  sauce.  Inside  of  twenty  minutes,  the 
pump  was  choked.  Tom  reported  to  the  captain, 
who  ordered  him  to  hoist  it  out  and  clear  it.  The 
carpenter  again  sounded  the  well  and  reported  six 


THE  TIDAL   WAVE  113 

and  a  half  feet  in  her.  Since  the  apples  began  to 
come  up,  the  water  had  gained  rapidly,  the  limbers 
being  choked.  When  Tom  called  for  a  tackle  to 
hoist  out  the  pump,  the  men  stared  at  him  without 
offering  to  move.  It  was  eleven  o'clock  at  night ; 
the  gale  was  coming  in  heavy  squalls,  and  it  was 
pitch  dark.  He  repeated  the  order  emphatically ; 
though  he  sympathized  with  the  poor  fellows,  who, 
half  dead  with  fatigue,  knew  the  utter  futility  of 
the  proposed  task. 

They  stood  huddled  together  under  the  weather 
bulwarks.  Presently  two  of  them  rolled  out  into  the 
feeble  light  of  a  lantern  hanging  inside  the  pantry 
window. 

"  Mr.  Benton,"  said  one,  "ye  can  tell  ol'  Beebe 
that  we're  done  tearin'  our  insides  out  pumpin'  his 
ol'  basket.  We'll  man  the  long-boat  if  he  says  so, 
an'  that's  all  we  will  do.  If  he  wants  the  pump 
h'isted  out,  he  can  h'ist  it  out  himself  an'  be  hanged 
to  'im."  And  away  they  went  forward. 

Tom  reported  their  answer  to  the  captain.  Cap- 
tain Beebe  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face  as  red  as  the 
British  ensign. 

"What!"  he  roared,  "do  you  dare  come  down 
here  an'  tell  me  that  your  rascally  tar-pots  refuse 
duty  ?  /'//  turn  'em  to,  an'  you  with  'em  !  " 

He  rushed  into  his  stateroom  and  returned  directly 
with  a  revolver  in  each  hand  and  his  eyes  blazing. 


114  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Tom  led  the  way  on  deck  without  waiting  for  an 
invitation.  Not  a  man  was  to  be  seen. 

"Go  forrard  an'  git  them  hounds  out!  I'll  turn 
'em  to  fer  ye,  quick !  "  said  the  old  man. 

As  Tom  swung  along  from  pin  to  pin,  on  his 
difficult  way  forward,  he  noticed  that  the  wind 
was  coming  in  vicious  gusts.  While  this  might 
betoken  the  breaking  of  the  gale,  it  was  ex- 
ceedingly dangerous  to  the  Spofford.  Her  cargo 
was  now  afloat  in  her,  which  made  her  terribly 
"logy,"  and  as  the  squalls  struck  her,  she  would 
roll  nearly  to  the  capsizing  point,  recovering  her- 
self very  slowly.  With  difficulty  he  made  his  way 
forward.  There  was  a  light  in  the  forecastle,  and 
he  peeped  in  the  window  to  see  what  they  were 
up  to.  Every  man  jack  was  stretched  comfortably 
in  his  bunk  smoking. 

The  sight  enraged  Tom.  He  jerked  the  door 
open,  and  ordered  them  in  rather  uncomplimen- 
tary terms  to  lay  aft  —  the  captain  wanted  to  see 
them. 

"To  blazes  wid  de  cap'n  an'  you,  too !  "  answered 
a  six-foot  Liverpool  Irishman. 

Tom's  blood  was  up  now.  He  leaped  lightly 
inside  the  door  —  he  would  have  that  Irishman  out 
if  it  was  his  last  act.  A  heavy  sea-boot,  wet  and 
soggy,  took  him  between  the  eyes,  and  he  tumbled 
backward,  through  the  door  on  deck.  A  fearful 


THE  TIDAL   WAVE  1 15 

• 

squall  was  howling  through  the  rigging.  He  fell 
on  his  back  in  the  water  and  struggled  spas- 
modically. Once,  twice,  his  feet  touched  the  deck. 
Then  there  was  a  hell  of  swirling,  roaring  water 
over  his  head,  and  he  went  down,  down,  down, 
as  it  seemed  for  miles. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

KITTY  GOES  TO  LIVE  WITH  THE  HAYWARDS  —  IT  IS 
DECIDED  THAT  KITTY  MUST  BE  EDUCATED MONT- 
REAL   MISS  LAVINIA  RANDOLPH  — NELLIE  DRUSE  — 

A   TRIP   TO    TROPICAL    SEAS 

KITTY  BLAKE  had  not,  to  her  knowledge,  a 
relative  in  the  world.  So  she  was  easily  persuaded 
to  allow  the  old  home  to  be  rented,  and  to  take 
up  her  residence  with  the  Haywards.  They  were 
a  childless  couple,  and  Mrs.  Hayward,  a  mild- 
mannered  and  affectionate  lady,  lavished  on  merry 
Kitty  the  wealth  of  maternal  love  that  had  been 
pent  up  in  her  heart  for  forty-five  years. 

The  fact  that  Mrs.  Hayward  had  arrived  at  this 
mature  age  no  doubt  prevented  her  spoiling  the 
girl ;  if,  indeed,  such  a  sunny  nature  could  have 
been  spoiled.  Mrs.  Hayward's  judgment  had  so 
ripened  with  the  passing  years  that  not  even  her 
engrossing  love  for  Kitty  could  blind  her  to  that 
young  lady's  shortcomings,  or  to  what  was  for  her 
best  interest. 

Mrs.  Hayward  had  once  had  a  younger  sister 
who  was  a  very  brilliant  scholar.  Even  at  the 

116 


KITTY   BLAKE  1 1/ 

early  age  of  twenty-three,  when  her  promising 
career  was  cut  short  by  death,  she  had  become 
prominent  in  Boston's  literary  set.  As  these  two 
had  no  brother,  their  father  —  not  without  many 
misgivings  —  mortgaged  the  old  farm  and  educated 
his  youngest  daughter.  The  venture  proved  such 
a  signal  success  that  Mrs.  Hayward  had  ever  since 
retained  an  overwhelming  respect  for  education. 

Throughout  her  married  life  she  had  longed  for 
a  son  —  that  she  might  educate  him.  Bearing  this 
fact  in  mind,  it  is  easy  to  understand  why,  when 
Kitty  Blake  fell  into  her  kindly  clutches,  she  was 
foredoomed  to  drink  deeply  of  the  fountain  of 
knowledge.  For  an  entire  year  the  good  lady 
gave  herself  up  to  the  delightful  companionship  of 
her  charge.  The  novelty  of  a  mother's  care  brought 
out  all  the  latent  sweetness  and  beauty  of  Kitty's 
character,  and  she  returned  Mrs.  Hayward's  affec- 
tion with  a  love  and  devotion  as  deep  and  strong 
as  the  nature  she  had  inherited  from  her  sturdy  sire. 

After  many  tearful  struggles  with  herself,  Mrs. 
Hayward  decided  that  the  time  had  arrived  for 
Kitty  to  enter  upon  her  studies.  A  sorrowful  scene 
ensued.  Kitty  objected  to  wearying  her  brains 
with  French  and  music,  mathematics  and  literature. 
"  What  was  the  good  of  it  ?  Papa  never  knew  such 
things,  and  he  was  proud  of  it."  But,  after  Mrs. 
Hayward  had  explained  her  life-long  ambition,  and 


Il8  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

how,  through  Kitty,  she  hoped  to  satisfy  it,  Kitty 
surrendered  at  once,  and  promised  herself  to  burn 
the  midnight  oil  if  necessary,  that  her  friend's 
wish  might  be  fulfilled.  But,  when  she  learned 
that  it  would  be  necessary  to  leave  home,  —  to  go 
to  Montreal,  where  Laura  had  studied,  —  she  nearly 
rebelled.  Again  her  desire  to  please  her  kind 
guardian  won ;  and  with  many  tears  and  a  breaking 
heart  she  bade  adieu  to  the  only  real  home  she  had 
ever  known. 

It  was  at  the  opening  of  the  winter  term,  after 
a  long  cold  ride,  that  Kitty  arrived  in  Montreal. 
A  handsome,  high-backed  sleigh,  drawn  by  a  pair 
of  strong,  mettlesome  grays,  was  waiting  for  her. 
Her  spirits  rose  mightily  as,  tucked  warmly  under 
the  voluminous  wolf-robes,  she  was  whirled  swiftly 
through  the  clear,  keen  air,  to  the  merry  jingling 
of  the  sleigh-bells.  Next  to  the  graceful  careening 
of  a  swift  boat,  when  the  breeze  is  stiff  enough  to 
hint  a  spice  of  risk,  Kitty  Blake  admired  the  flying 
heels  of  a  lively  horse. 

She  was  received  by  Miss  Lavinia  Randolph, 
the  elder  of  two  sisters  who  conducted  the  famous 
seminary  for  developing  sweet  girl  rosebuds  into 
severely  erudite,  spectacled  blue-stockings.  Miss 
Lavinia  was  a  buxom,  rosy,  jolly  lady  of  sixty. 
She  greeted  Kitty  with  a  kiss,  the  heartiness  of 
which  was  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt,  and 


KITTY    BLAKE  1 19 

personally  removed  her  wraps.  She  drew  a  chair 
to  the  blazing  log  fire  for  the  new  pupil,  and  at 
once  made  her  feel  that  she  was  among  friends. 
After  the  old  lady  had  gained  her  confidence,  and 
put  her  perfectly  at  her  ease,  a  few  of  the  other 
pupils  were  introduced.  With  the  rare  tact  ac- 
quired during  years  of  experience  with  strange 
girls,  Miss  Randolph  kept  Kitty  by  her  all  the 
evening;  showing  her  the  thousand  and  one  little 
attentions  that  would  have  been  so  sadly  missed 
this  first  night  among  strangers. 

Before  Kitty  had  been  a  week  in  the  school, 
her  schoolmates  pronounced  her  "jolly,"  and  her 
teachers  took  to  her.  She  studied  hard :  at  first, 
to  please  Mrs.  Hayward  ;  afterwards  for  the  pleas- 
ure her  vigorous  mind  experienced  in  overcoming 
difficulties  and  acquiring  knowledge.  Her  fallow 
brain  absorbed  instruction  like  a  sponge,  and  her 
healthy  body  enabled  her  to  endure  hours  of  the 
closest  application.  Flattering  reports  of  her  prog- 
ress were  sent  to  Portland,  and  the  doting  heart 
of  Mrs.  Hayward  swelled  with  maternal  pride. 
Kitty  soon  found  her  affinity  in  the  person  of 
Nellie  Druse,  a  slight,  gentle,  and  somewhat  back- 
ward English  girl,  six  months  her  junior.  They 
were  attracted  to  each  other  by  their  differences, 
like  the  opposite  poles  of  a  magnet. 

Kitty   took    Nellie    under   her   wing,    helped   her 


120  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

with  her  lessons,  preached  independence  of  spirit 
to  her,  and  mothered  her  generally.  She  asked 
Miss  Lavinia  to  allow  them  to  room  together. 
That  shrewd  student  of  human  nature,  observing 
that  each  was  the  complement  of  the  other,  readily 
agreed. 

In  the  delightful  hours  that  intervene  between 
going  to  bed  and  falling  asleep,  the  two  girls 
opened  their  hearts  to  each  other.  Kitty  told 
Nellie  of  Tom  —  all  about  him,  not  even  hiding 
what  she  believed  to  have  been  her  father's  vil- 
lany  toward  him,  and  Nellie  listened  with  absorb- 
ing interest. 

"  Is  he  pretty  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Pretty?"  repeated  Kitty,  in  a  sort  of  dismayed 
surprise  that  she  had  been  confronted  with  a  ques- 
tion that  must  be  answered  to  Tom's  discredit. 
"  Tom  Benton  pretty  ?  Why  —  n  —  no  ;  at  least, 
you  see,  Nellie,  I  never  thought  about  him  that 
way,  nor  you  wouldn't  either;  you'd  like  him  right 
away.  Tom  is  good  !  " 

"  I  know  he  is,  dear,  and  I  know  I  should  like 
him  because  you  do.  Are  you  going  to  marry  him 
when  you  grow  up,  Kitty  ? " 

"I  should  like  to,"  replied  Kitty,  frankly,  "if  — 
if  —  I  only  knew  whe  —  whe  —  where  he  is  now. 
Poor  Tom !  "  And  these  two  innocent  lambs 
mourned  the  unknown  fate  of  Tom  Benton. 


KITTY  BLAKE  121 

Nellie's  father  was  a  very  wealthy  man,  with  in- 
numerable interests  in  many  parts  of  the  world. 
He  owned  immense  lumber  districts  in  Canada,  and 
tea  plantations  in  China  and  India,  besides  sugar 
and  coffee  plantations  in  the  West  Indies  and  on 
the  Spanish  main.  He  owned  or  controlled  great 
fleets  of  ships  which  found  almost  continuous  em- 
ployment in  handling  the  products  of  his  various 
industries  and  supplying  them  with  the  necessary 
tools  and  stores  for  the  business.  He  was  a  direc- 
tor in  numerous  boards,  controlling  great  interests 
all  over  the  world.  He  travelled  almost  constantly; 
sometimes  with  his  family,  at  other  times  alone. 
While  in  Montreal  on  a  business  trip,  he  became 
acquainted  with  the  establishment  of  the  Misses 
Randolph,  liked  the  old  ladies,  believed  their 
methods  were  right,  and  entrusted  them  with  the 
care  and  education  of  his  only  daughter,  —  the 
apple  of  his  eye. 

Nellie  never  tired  of  telling  her  bosom  friend 
about  her  father.  Her  love  for  him  overshadowed 
all  else.  He  was  handsome,  generous,  kind,  and, 
to  sum  it  all  in  the  one  phrase  that  to  her  ex- 
pressed perfection,  he  was  "awfully  jolly."  Both 
girls  received  letters  regularly  from  home,  and  it 
is  safe  to  assume  that  the  correspondent  of  each 
read  a  great  deal  concerning  the  other's  chum. 
When  the  second  vacation  arrived,  Nellie's  father 


122  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

was  away,  and  would  not  be  able  to  see  his  little 
girl  for  several  weeks.  The  natural  result  was 
that  those  intervening  weeks  were  spent  in  Port- 
land with  Kitty  Blake.  Here  Nellie  saw  the  very 
places  where  Tom  and  Kitty  had  spent  their  few 
pleasant  hours  together,  and  heard  all  the  old  tales 
retold,  living  the  scenes  over  in  her  strong  sym- 
pathy for  Kitty. 

As  the  vacation  season  approached  again,  Nellie 
told  her  father  of  her  wish  to  have  Kitty  pass  it 
with  her.  "Where  would  he  be?"  He  was  un- 
able to  say  positively,  until  about  six  weeks  before 
the  time.  He  then  wrote  to  her  that  he  had  decided 
on  a  trip  to  La  Guayra,  where  he  had  purchased 
a  large  cocoa  plantation.  He  wished  to  inspect 
the  property,  and,  if  she  and  her  chum  cared  to 
go,  he  would  call  for  them  at  Halifax  and  guarantee 
them  a  good  time. 

Would  they  go?  They  could  hardly  sleep  with 
excitement  at  the  prospect.  Atlases  and  histories 
were  conned  for  information  concerning  La  Guayra, 
but  about  all  they  learned  was  that  it  was  the 
seaport  of  Caraccas,  and  terribly  hot.  "  But 
pshaw,"  said  Nellie,  "I  know  papa;  he'll  not 
take  us  to  a  place  where  there's  no  fun ;  or,  if 
'he  has  to  go  to  such  places,  he'll  only  stay  as 
long  as  he's  obliged  to  and  then  be  off  somewhere 
else.  We'll  have  a  good  time,  you  see  if  we  don't." 


KITTY   BLAKE  123 

There  was  only  one  drawback  to  their  prospec- 
tive happiness.  Kitty  feared  she  would  be  un- 
able to  visit  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hayward  if  she  went 
so  far  away,  and  she  couldn't  slight  them,  not 
even  to  go  with  her  friend.  Nellie  said  little, 
but  the  next  mail  carried  a  very  urgent  letter  to 
her  indulgent  father.  "  He  must  invite  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hayward,  or  she  and  Kitty  would  not  be 
able  to  go."  The  return  mail  brought  the  requisite 
document,  couched  in  such  a  well-bred  manner 
that  it  put  the  invitation  in  the  form  of  a  request 
for  a  great  favor. 

Kitty  now  found  herself  with  a  big  contract  on 
hand.  The  Haywards  could  not  think  of  such  a 
thing  for  a  moment.  It  was  absurd  to  expect 
them  to  accept  an  invitation  like  that  from  a  per- 
fect stranger.  But  sometimes  the  fates  conspire 
to  be  kind.  Mr.  Hayward  had  been  particularly 
successful  in  business  for  the  last  three  years  and 
had  not  had  a  holiday  in  twenty-five.  Under  the 
circumstances  it  was  not  difficult  for  his  wife  to 
persuade  him  that  he  needed  a  good  long  rest; 
so  they  had  arranged  to  treat  Kitty  to  a  trip 
through  the  West  during  her  vacation.  The  pro- 
posed sea  voyage  upset  all  their  plans.  They 
knew  the  dear  girl  had  her  heart  set  on  going 
with  her  chum,  and  would  not  enjoy  anything 
else.  It  was  an  extremely  delicate  situation. 


124  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Kitty,  of  course,  showed  all  her  letters  to  Nellie, 
and  explained,  while  Nellie  corresponded  with  her 
father.  As  he  was  a  man  whose  life  had  been 
devoted  to  solving  riddles  and  overcoming  obsta- 
cles, he  soon  straightened  out  the  tangle  and 
managed  to  overcome  the  scruples  of  his  sensi- 
tive guests,  so  that  when  the  five-hundred-ton 
British  bark  Albatross  sailed  from  Halifax,  she 
carried  as  merry  a  party  of  pleasure-seekers  as 
is  often  seen  afloat  or  ashore,  including  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hayward. 


CHAPTER   IX 

WRECKED   AGAIN  —  THE   CATAMARAN  —  THE   HOME    OF 

THE    WARUNAS  —  LIFE    ON    A    MUD-BANK A    QUEER 

FUNERAL  —  UP  THE  GREAT  RIVER  —  A  STRANGE  HAR- 
VEST —  ESCAPE 

As  Tom  partially  lost  consciousness,  he  thought 
Captain  Beebe  was  yelling  at  him  from  the  poop. 
He  could  not  understand  the  order,  but  dared  not 
ask  for  a  repetition  of  it.  He  heard  a  confused 
roaring,  his  head  was  bursting,  and  he  saw  stars 
and  flaming  swords.  Suddenly  he  shot  half  his 
length  out  of  water.  His  lungs  were  filled  with 
life-giving  air,  and  he  struck  out  instinctively,  and 
opened  his  eyes.  There  was  no  ship  visible  —  noth- 
ing—  nothing  but  blackness,  made  lurid  by  the 
phosphorescence  of  the  breaking  seas.  He  swam 
aimlessly  about,  swallowing  the  salt  water  that  was 
flung  over  his  head  by  the  gale.  This  could  not 
last  long.  He  was  becoming  momentarily  weaker, 
and  with  the  increase  of  bodily  weakness  his  mind 
became  resigned  to  his  fate.  Tom  Benton  had 
never  been  of  a  religious  turn.  Few  seamen  are. 
In  this,  his  extremity,  no  thoughts  of  the  future  tor- 

I25 


126  TOM   BEXTOX'S   LUCK 

mented  him.  He  did  not  wish  to  die,  but,  there 
being  no  hope,  he  was  resigned.  In  that  supreme 
moment,  he  had  but  one  regret.  Kitty  Blake  would 
never  know  why  he  had  failed  to  make  good  his 
promise.  This  troubled  him.  He  could  not  decide 
to  cease  his  struggles  and  voluntarily  drown,  though 
ever}-  labored  breath  —  consisting  of  a  large  per- 
centage of  water  —  was  torture. 

Suddenly,  in  the  darkness  before  him,  a  spot  or 
patch  of  denser  blackness  loomed.  He  was  sensible 
of  shelter.  The  wind  passed  over  him.  The  sea 
was  smooth  enough  to  permit  his  getting  an  oc- 
casional whole  breath  of  air.  He  swam  towards 
the  dark  spot,  and,  as  he  was  unable  to  gauge  dis- 
tance, he  received  a  severe  blow  on  the  head.  He 
put  out  his  hand  —  it  was  the  long-boat.  She  was 
clinker-built,  and  so  high  out  of  water  that  it  was 
impossible  to  climb  into  her.  He  remembered  that 
she  had  been  in  tow.  There  would  perhaps  be  a 
bit  of  the  line  yet  fast  in  her  bow.  Slowly  and 
wearily  —  his  sodden  clothing  dragging  him  down  — 
he  swam  along  her  side ;  she  seemed  half  a  mile 
long. 

When  he  reached  the  end  of  her,  it  was  her 
stern ;  he  must  have  started  from  near  her  bow. 
He  was  nearly  spent,  and  had  neither  the  strength 
nor  the  will-power  to  work  his  way  back  along  that 
dreary  road.  Probably  there  would  be  no  rope 


THK    HOMK   OF   THE   \VAKUXAS  I2/ 

there,  anyway;  it  would  be  just  his  luck.  He  had 
about  decided  to  let  himself  sink,  when  the  boat's 
rudder  hit  him  a  sharp  crack  on  the  side  of  the 
head.  That  roused  him.  "  He  handed  if  I'll  ever 
say  die,  while  there's  a  shot  in  the  locker!"  he  re- 
marked to  himself,  and  started  to  swim  ahead  again. 
He  reached  the  stem  and  felt  about  for  the  dan- 
gling end  of  the  rope.  There  was  nothing. 

Hitterly  he  repented  the  useless  exertion.  He 
might  have  been  dead  now,  ami  had  it  all  over. 
As  the  sea  tossed  him  about  under  the  boat's  nose, 
he  thought  that,  by  watching  his  chance,  he  might 
breach  from  the  crest  of  a  sea,  and  secure  a  hold 
on  her  gunwale,  as  he  had  seen  seals  climb  upon 
an  overhanging  rock,  lie  waited  for  a  good  chance 
—  he  could  not  afford  to  waste  an  effort.  A  round- 
backed  sea,  not  yet  ready  to  break,  raised  him.  lie 
leaped  as  far  as  he  could,  threw  out  his  arms,  and 
caught  —  the  rope.  She  was  still  fast  to  the  wreck. 
As  it  sprang  taut  again,  it  nearly  got  away  from 
him.  It  seemed  as  it  it  would  tear  his  arms  from 
their  sockets.  Hut  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  death- 
grip.  When  the  rope  slacked  again,  he  worked  his 
way  a  little  nearer  to  the  boat  ;  and  so,  hope  play- 
ing sec  saw  in  his  heart,  as  he  was  alternately  dragged 
hall  his  dripping  length  from  the  water  and  soused 
back  again,  he  edged  along,  until  his  hand  one 
hand  was  on  her  rail.  The  sharp  edges  of  the 


128  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

wood  hurt  his  lacerated  hand,  but  a  twenty-foot 
shark  could  hardly  have  broken  his  hold.  The  time 
came  when,  with  his  body  balanced  on  the  rail,  it 
was  an  even  bet  whether  he  would  fall  in  or  out. 
A  friendly  sea  raised  his  booted  legs,  he  shoved  with 
his  hands,  and  fell  in  board. 

He  lay  a  long  time  resting  and  regaining  his 
breath.  Then  he  sat  up  and  looked  about.  The 
squall  that  had  capsized  the  ship  was  the  last  ex- 
piring blast  of  the  gale.  Here  and  there  a  star- 
studded  patch  of  blue  sky  showed  smilingly  through 
the  surly  masses  of  heavy  black  clouds  that  were 
rapidly  breaking  up  and  drifting  away.  With  the 
suddenness  pertaining  to  the  tropics,  day  dawned. 
The  ship  lay,  bottom  up,  a  few  fathoms  ahead  of  the 
long-boat. 

What  a  satire  on  the  puny  efforts  of  man  to  domi- 
nate the  sea !  The  ship,  representing  the  crystalliza- 
tion of  all  the  maritime  knowledge  gathered  during 
the  centuries  that  man  has  sailed,  lay  there  a  useless 
wreck  —  the  coffin  of  her  crew  —  while  this  fragile 
open  boat,  in  which  no  one  would  willingly  under- 
take a  voyage,  was  sound  and  whole. 

Tom  hauled  up  to  the  wreck  and  shouted;  over 
and  over  again  he  called  his  shipmates  by  name. 
He  knew  it  was  useless,  but  there  are  certain  tradi- 
tional forms  that  one  does  not  willingly  omit. 
With  a  heavy  heart  he  cut  the  rope ;  and  after 


ALONE  IN  THE  LONG-BOAT. 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WARUNAS        129 

several  attempts,  —  nearly  falling  overboard  twice, 
—  he  stepped  the  heavy  mast  and  set  the  sail.  The 
sun  was  up  now,  and  the  breeze  had  fallen  quite 
light ;  but  as  the  sea  was  still  running  high,  she 
bobbed  about  and  shipped  considerable  water.  This 
kept  him  busy  baling  until  noon.  After  that  she 
did  very  well.  Tired,  hungry,  and  thoroughly 
disheartened,  Tom  sat  at  the  tiller  and  thought 
bitter  thoughts.  He  was  not  a  bit  thankful  for 
his  escape.  He  envied  his  shipmates,  who,  now 
that  it  was  over,  were  at  rest.  He  called  himself 
a  fool  for  having  exerted  himself  —  for  this.  He 
was  hungry  and  thirsty.  There  was  a  breaker 
of  water  and  a  bag  of  hard  bread  in  the  boat. 

The  bread  had  suffered  from  the  salt  water, 
but  he  found  several  biscuits  near  the  centre  that 
were  dry.  He  ate  a  biscuit  and  drank  sparingly 
of  the  warm  water  in  the  breaker;  for  he  knew 
that  economy  was  now  the  golden  rule.  His  bodily 
wants  having  been  partially  appeased,  his  spirits 
rose,  and  he  began  to  take  an  interest  in  himself. 
The  wind  having  died  out,  the  heat  became  intense. 
The  sun  glared  down  angrily  at  him,  and  its  rays 
were  reflected  from  the  glassy  surface  of  the  gently 
heaving  sea.  He  was  tempted  to  drink  continu- 
ally, but  restrained  himself.  He  lowered  the  sail 
and  made  an  awning  of  it.  The  motion  of  the 
boat  caused  a  slight  circulation  of  air  under  the 

K 


130  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

awning,  but  it  was  hot  air.  He  dipped  himself 
over  the  side,  and  from  the  rapid  evaporation 
experienced  a  delicious  sense  of  coolness.  Being 
thoroughly  worn  out,  he  disposed  himself  in  an 
easy  position,  and  slept  as  only  sailors  can  under 
such  trying  circumstances. 

When  he  awoke  the  sun  had  set,  and  a  pleasant, 
cool  breeze  was  blowing.  He  jumped  up,  feeling 
much  refreshed,  set  his  sail,  and  headed  her  about 
SSE.  as  nearly  as  he  could  estimate  it  by  the 
stars.  Although  he  did  not  know  the  longitude, 
he  knew  that  the  latitude,  the  day  before  the 
gale,  had  been  10°  56'  N.,  and  he  knew  from  the 
conversation  of  the  captain  and  mate  that  they 
were  farther  west  than  they  wished  to  be ;  so,  by 
what  he  could  remember  of  the  general  trend  of 
the  South  American  coast,  he  figured  that  he 
needed  to  make  a  southerly  course  to  raise  the 
land,  and  as  there  was  apt  to  be  a  trace  of  the 
great  ocean  river  here,  that  makes  up  through 
the  West  Indies,  he  gave  her,  as  near  as  he  could 
guess,  a  couple  of  points  of  easting  to  offset  it. 

He  had  no  plan.  In  case  he  failed  to  fall  in 
with  a  trader,  he  would  make  the  coast ;  that  was 
all.  As  long  as  he  got  away  from  the  boat  before 
the  water  gave  out,  he  was  satisfied.  He  sailed 
all  night ;  and  there,  alone  in  the  boat,  under 
the  brilliant  tropical  stars,  he  thought  of  many 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WARUNAS        131 

things.  At  first  he  thought  of  his  lost  ship- 
mates ;  of  Captain  Beebe,  from  whose  influence  he 
had  hoped  so  much.  Now  his  plans  were  entirely 
upset  again.  He  was  just  where  he  started  when 
he  left  Portland.  Worse  —  much  worse.  He  had 
often  heard  his  father  say  that  his  long  life  at 
sea  had  been  as  uneventful  as  it  would  have  been 
had  he  passed  it  on  a  farm.  Why  did  he  have 
such  terrible  luck  ?  He  almost  wished  he  had 
been  drowned  with  the  rest. 

With  the  return  of  daylight  his  buoyant  nature 
reasserted  itself.  He  decided  that  he  had  been 
spared  to  enable  him  to  try  once  more  to  make 
good  his  promise  to  Kitty  Blake,  so  he  took  a 
fresh  grip  on  himself  and  silently  renewed  that 
promise  to  come  home  captain  of  as  fine  a  ship 
as  ever  her  father  commanded.  Captain,  indeed ! 
He  was  in  a  fine  way  to  become  a  captain.  He 
was  more  likely  destined  for  shark  bait.  Then 
he  remembered  that  even  now  he  was  captain,  ay, 
and  owner  too,  and  he  laughed  loud  and  long 
at  the  merry  conceit.  He  enjoyed  the  sound  of 
his  voice,  so  he  talked  to  himself.  "All  you  need 
to  do,  Tom,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "is  to  get  a  good 
deal  bigger  ship  and  you  are  all  right.  If  you 
ain't  Yankee  enough  to  do  that,  with  the  start 
you've  got,  you  are  no  good,  and  I'll  shake  you 
the  first  chance." 


132  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

He  dowsed  his  sail  at  sunrise,  hung  a  bowline 
over  the  stern,  and  took  a  swim  —  keeping  close 
to  her  in  case  of  sharks.  As  the  wind  still  held, 
he  set  his  sail  again,  and  continued  on  his  course 
until  three  or  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The 
breeze  died  out  then,  so  he  rigged  his  awning 
and  went  to  sleep.  He  awoke  sometime  during 
the  night  and  got  under  way  again,  and  again  he 
had  an  attack  of  the  blues.  He  was  lonesome, 
terribly  lonesome,  and  for  the  first  time  he  began 
to  worry.  Perhaps,  after  all,  he  should  have  steered 
to  the  westward  of  south.  He  might  not  be  as 
far  west  as  he  had  at  first  thought.  If  there  was 
a  current,  he  might  be  in  an  eddy  of  it.  The  more 
he  thought  about  it,  the  less  positive  he  was  as 
to  the  general  formation  of  the  coast-line ;  it  was 
years  since  he  had  seen  a  chart,  and  just  as  likely 
as  not  he  had  been  sailing  all  this  time  away  from 
the  land  instead  of  toward  it. 

Thus  he  tormented  himself  with  doubts.  Finally, 
he  changed  his  course  to  due  south,  as  nearly  as 
he  could  judge.  He  wanted  to  make  the  land  — 
any  land ;  if  it  was  uninhabited,  he  could  take  a 
run  ashore,  and  then  coast  along  until  he  found 
inhabitants.  That  he  might  see  where  he  was 
going,  he  decided  to  sleep  nights ;  so,  an  hour 
after  sunset,  he  spread  his  awning  and  lay  down. 
He  would  doze  off,  and  wake  feeling  cramped  and 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WARUNAS        133 

uncomfortable.  He  would  turn  over,  try  to  find  a 
position  in  which  the  boat's  timbers  would  not 
punch  holes  in  him,  and  fall  asleep  again.  He 
dreamed  all  sorts  of  things,  waking  with  a  start, 
and  towards  morning  he  reenacted  the  capsizing 
of  the  Spofford.  He  was  standing  in  the  forecastle 
door  calling  the  men.  He  heard  the  roar  of  the 
squall  as  it  struck  her  in  its  fury.  He  felt  a  shock 
-there  was  a  crashing  of  timbers,  and  he  awoke 
floundering  in  the  water. 

He  heard  strange  voices  shouting  wildly  in  a 
strange  language.  A  great  coarse-looking  sail  was 
disappearing  rapidly  to  leeward.  He  had  been  run 
down  as  he  slept.  He  shouted  lustily  for  help. 
The  queer-looking  craft  bore  down  on  him,  its 
occupants  calling  out  in  their  outlandish  lingo.  He 
yelled  to  them  not  to  run  him  down.  As  they 
held  to  their  course,  he  dived  deeply  to  clear  her 
bottom.  On  returning  to  the  surface,  he  called 
out  again.  They  appeared  to  be  bewildered  by 
the  new  direction  from  whence  the  voice  came. 
There  was  a  great  jabbering,  the  big  sail  jibed, 
and,  just  as  the  first  level  rays  of  dawn  glimmered 
across  the  water,  Tom  saw  the  craft  that  had 
wrecked  him.  It  was  a  catamaran,  manned  by 
three  Indians,  and  consisting  of  three  logs  lashed 
together  with  thongs  of  fibre,  rigged  with  a  bam- 
boo mast  and  a  sail  of  coarse  matting.  It  was 


134  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

unsinkable,  and,  while  the  thongs  lasted,  inde- 
structible. No  wonder  the  long-boat  had  gone 
down  before  it;  it  had  a  ramming  power  almost 
equal  to  a  man-o'-war.  She  was  steered  by  a  very 
old  and  wrinkled  Indian  with  a  paddle.  There 
were  two  young  men,  one  little  more  than  a  boy, 
with  him.  They  pulled  Tom  aboard,  chattering 
all  the  while  like  monkeys.  No  doubt  they  won- 
dered how  he  came  there ;  but,  being  unable  to 
converse  with  each  other,  he  could  not  tell  them. 

They  resumed  their  voyage,  heading  to  the  west- 
ward, the  old  man  steering,  the  others  squatting 
silently  on  the  logs.  Tom  noted  that  the  water 
had  changed  from  a  deep  sea  blue  to  muddy  yellow, 
a  sign  that  they  were  approaching  the  mouth  of  a 
great  river.  About  ten  o'clock,  the  peaks  of  a 
distant  mountain  range  were  dimly  denned  in  the 
clear  blue  atmosphere.  Immediately  after,  long 
lines  of  low  bushes  on  either  side  proved  that  they 
had  already  entered  the  river,  though  Tom  had 
supposed  them  to  be  still  several  miles  at  sea.  The 
old  man  now  gave  up  the  steering  paddle  to  one 
of  the  others,  and  talked  long  and  earnestly  to 
Tom,  who  understood  never  a  word.  He  then  made 
motions  equivalent  to  asking  him  if  he  was  hungry. 
On  being  answered  by  affirmative  nods,  he  pro- 
duced from  a  corner  of  his  untidy  waist-cloth  a 
handful  of  dried  turtles'  eggs.  Tom  looked  at 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WARUNAS        135 

them  dubiously.  He  recognized  the  hospitality  of 
the  act,  but  he  shook  his  head  with  a  smile.  "  I 
guess  I'll  wait  for  the  pie,  Cap',''  he  said.  The 
Indians  ate  the  queer-looking  provender  with  un- 
doubted relish. 

In  spite  of  her  clumsy  appearance  the  catamaran 
made  remarkably  good  time,  and  as  they  neared 
the  bank  Tom  observed  that  it  consisted  of  a 
dismal  strip  of  mud.  Alligators  basked  in  the 
sun  and  birds  innumerable  pattered  or  flew  scream- 
ing overhead.  Tom  pointed  upstream,  and  said  to 
the  old  captain,  "Amazon?"  The  old  fellow  re- 
garded him  stupidly.  Then  he  remembered  that 
they  could  not  possibly  be  so  far  south  as  that, 
so,  pointing  again,  he  asked,  "Orinoco?" 

Now  they  understood ;  they  all  bobbed  their 
heads  vigorously,  and  shouted  in  reply :  "  Si,  si, 
Rinoke,  Rinoke."  So  this  was  one  of  the  mouths 
of  the  mighty  Orinoco,  and  these  were  Waruna 
Indians.  Tom  had  read  of  them,  and  knew  they 
were  not  savages.  But  what  was  to  become  of 
him  now  ? 

Before  night  they  arrived  at  the  island  home  of 
the  Indians.  It  was  a  mere  mud-bank,  like  all 
the  surrounding  country.  The  village  —  if  it  might 
be  dignified  by  such  a  name  —  consisted  of  five  huts, 
or  rather  shelters.  They  were  built  upon  piles 
stuck  in  the  mud,  and  were  simple  structures  of 


136  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

bamboo  and  reeds,  thatched  with  palm  leaves.  At 
each  hut,  a  catamaran,  or  a  canoe,  or  several  of  the 
latter,  were  moored  to  the  piles.  On  the  raised 
platform  that  served  as  floor  there  was  a  mud 
fireplace.  This  was  the  kitchen.  Between  the 
posts  grass  hammocks  were  slung.  Nearly  every 
hammock  had  an  occupant  swinging  lazily,  but  some 
were  too  lazy  even  to  do  that. 

The  arrival  of  the  catamaran  created  hardly  any 
stir.  A  few  heads  languidly  rose  above  the  gun- 
wales of  the  hammocks,  only  to  fall  listlessly  back 
again.  The  catamaran  had  been  on  a  trading  voy- 
age, though  the  sum  total  of  their  homeward-bound 
cargo  would  hardly  amount  to  a  dollar's  worth. 
When  the  few  bundles  were  passed  up,  the  owner's 
wife  and  children  became  interested  enough  to 
sprawl  out  of  their  hammocks  and  admire  the  bits 
of  bright  calico  and  cheap  trinkets  that  "  papa " 
had  brought  them.  The  presence  of  a  white  man 
created  a  mild  excitement.  Only  the  grown  per- 
sons were  familiar  with  the  appearance  of  white 
people,  the  children  —  mud  larks,  Tom  called  them 
-  not  having  yet  travelled  to  the  outer  world.  The 
odor  of  boiling  fish  which  saluted  Tom's  nose 
when  he  arrived  in  "the  sitting  room"  was  most 
welcome,  for  he  was  famished. 

The  old  gentleman  remembered  that  Tom  was 
fasting.  He  spoke  to  one  of  the  girls,  who  im- 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WARUNAS        137 

mediately  brought  him  a  calabash  of  chowder.  Re- 
membering his  manners,  Tom  neglected  to  analyze 
it.  He  took  it  on  trust.  Barring  some  unfamiliar 
flavors,  it  was  good  and  very  filling.  The  oldest 
daughter,  a  young  lady  of  sixteen  or  seventeen 
years,  took  a  great  shine  to  Tom  —  which  he  did 
not  reciprocate.  She  admired  his  fine  white  skin 
and  coaxed  him  to  peel. 

As  she  evidently  considered  him  her  personal 
property,  she  sent  some  of  the  younger  children  — 
of  whom  there  were  eight  or  nine  —  to  call  the 
neighbors.  She  collected  a  gang  of  fishy-smelling 
young  aborigines,  who  crowded  around  him,  staring 
with  all  their  eyes  and  commenting  on  his  out- 
landish appearance.  When  he  could  stand  it  no 
longer,  he  backed  to  the  far  side  of  the  platform 
for  air.  The  young  ladies  followed  him  up,  han- 
dling him  quite  freely.  They  passed  their  unclean 
paws  over  his  hands  and  face  and  toyed  lovingly 
with  his  hair.  They  begged  him  to  remove  his 
shirt,  that  they  might  feast  their  eyes  on  a  larger 
area  of  white  pelt.  Tom's  bashfulness  disappeared 
in  the  face  of  their  earnest  pleadings.  Who 
could  hold  out  against  the  wiles  of  such  guileless 
charmers  ?  He  yanked  off  the  old  blue  shirt. 
Their  admiration,  expressed  in  high-flown  Waruna, 
was  boundless. 

They    slapped    his    shoulders,   pinched   the    white 


138  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

flesh,  and  tickled  him,  until  he  could  stand  it  no 
longer.  Convulsed  with  laughter,  the  tears  run- 
ning down  his  cheeks,  he  turned  to  dive  off  the 
platform  overboard.  They  divined  his  purpose, 
and  surrounding  him  held  him  back,  while  they 
pointed  to  the  water  and  shouted  in  tones  of 
horror,  "Caribe!  Caribe  !  " 

Not  understanding,  and  thinking  they  merely 
wished  to  frighten  him,  he  broke  away  and  dived 
off.  The  instant  he  touched  the  water,  it  seemed 
as  if  a  hundred  hot  pincers  were  tearing  the  flesh 
from  his  body.  Frantically  he  climbed  aboard  the 
catamaran.  He  was  bathed  in  his  own  blood  from 
the  merciless  attacks  of  those  voracious  little  devil- 
fish—  or  fish  devils  —  the  caribes.  It  was  fortu- 
nate that  the  raft  lay  so  handy,  for  the  caribes 
would  have  stripped  the  last  morsel  of  flesh  from 
his  bones  in  very  short  order.  The  girls  dressed 
his  wounds,  consoled  him,  and  gave  him  much 
valuable  advice  —  which  might  have  benefited  him 
had  he  understood  it.  Tom  put  his  shirt  on,  and 
declined  to  oblige  the  ladies  after  that. 

The  Indians  passed  nearly  all  their  time  in  their 
hammocks.  Tom  wondered  when  the  houses  and 
canoes  were  built,  and  how  they  procured  food. 
He  soon  discovered  that  generous  old  Dame  Nature 
did  nearly  all  the  work.  The  palms  and  bamboos 
produced  nearly  everything  they  required,  very  little 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WARUNAS        139 

labor  being  necessary  to  complete  and  fit  the  ar- 
ticles for  use.  They  were  too  indolent  to  wear 
anything  out  except  the  hammocks,  and  they  were 
pretty  tough.  As  for  food,  thousands  of  fish  of 
many  kinds  were  swimming  at  their  very  doors, 
begging  to  be  caught,  while  the  trees  among  which 
they  slept  were  alive  with  birds,  monkeys,  and 
other  animals.  The  Indians,  being  experts  with 
bow,  arrow,  and  blow-pipe,  had  no  occasion  to  fear 
a  meat  famine ;  and,  as  the  teeming  forest  was  full 
of  fruit  and  vegetable-bearing  plants  and  trees, 
their  menu  was  only  limited  in  variety  by  their 
laziness. 

Tom  was  provided  with  a  hammock,  and  before 
morning  he  appreciated  the  wisdom  of  the  Indians, 
who  slept  during  the  day.  Howling  monkeys, 
owls,  tree-toads,  birds,  beasts,  and  insects  kept  up 
a  distracting  clamor.  Mosquitoes,  fleas,  bugs,  cat- 
erpillars, spiders,  and  small  snakes  made  it  their 
business  to  see  that  he  should  not  lack  for  diver- 
sion. He  rolled  and  squirmed,  scratched,  slapped, 
and  grumbled  at  his  tormenters  all  night.  He 
heard  an  occasional  half-surprised,  "  Caramba ! " 
from  a  native,  when  an  extra  lusty  gallinipper  suc- 
ceeded in  penetrating  to  the  quick,  but  as  a  rule 
the  Indians  slept  well  and  did  not  appear  any 
lazier  or  more  exhausted  than  usual. 

Tom  kept  a  good  lookout,  and  a  couple  of  weeks 


140  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

after  his  arrival  he  was  made  happy  by  the  sight 
of  a  distant  sail.  The  vessel  was  so  far  away  that 
it  appeared  merely  as  a  white  speck,  but  it  looked 
like  civilization  and  home.  He  shouted  and  pointed 
it  out  to  the  Indians,  who  merely  grunted  and 
rolled  over  for  a  fresh  nap. 

Having  picked  up  a  few  words  of  their  language, 
he  signified  his  desire  to  go.  They  declined  to  allow 
him  to  leave.  He  had  nothing  with  which  to  bribe 
them,  and  was  unable  to  explain  that  they  would  be 
rewarded  for  delivering  him  aboard  a  vessel. 

Tom  wondered  if  he  was  to  pass  the  remainder  of 
his  life  with  these  dirty  savages  on  their  mud-bank. 
He  was  exceedingly  weary  of  the  uneventful  life,  and 
worried  about  his  wasted  time.  As  he  paddled  the 
canoe  when  his  owner  fished,  he  became  quite  an 
adept  at  handling  the  awkward  craft.  He  decided 
to  steal  a  canoe  and  escape  at  the  first  opportunity, 
but  a  certain  favorable  combination  was  necessary  to 
make  the  undertaking  a  success.  There  must  be  a 
vessel,  for  to  sail  off  into  unknown  waters  would  be 
foolish.  There  must  be  —  at  the  time  of  the  vessel 
—  an  opportunity  to  steal  a  boat,  and  that  was  the 
most  unlikely  part  of  it ;  for,  aside  from  the  fact  that 
some  one  was  nearly  always  awake,  they  had  a  most 
reprehensible  habit  of  stowing  their  oars  and  sails 
on  the  bamboo  rafters  over  their  hammocks.  This 
place  being  also  the  storehouse  of  their  ancestor's 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WARUNAS        141 

bones,  it  was  a  difficult  feat  even  in  daylight  to  get 
anything  from  there  without  upsetting  the  beaded 
baskets  of  human  relics.  During  his  stay  on  the 
island  he  had  an  opportunity  of  witnessing  one  of 
their  strangest  of  funerals.  His  owner's  mother  — 
a  very  aged  squaw  —  was  found  dead  in  her  ham- 
mock one  morning.  As  soon  as  the  sad  news  be- 
came known,  her  dutiful  son  tied  a  manatee-skin 
rope  about  the  neck  of  the  deceased  and  lowered  her 
tenderly  into  the  river.  The  water  became  instantly 
alive  with  caribes,  and  next  morning  the  orphan  drew 
up  a  beautifully  cleaned  skeleton  —  all  that  remained, 
outside  of  the  caribes  —  of  his  parent.  This  he  pro- 
ceeded to  cut  apart  and  stow  carefully  in  the  basket 
prepared  to  receive  it.  When  all  the  separated  bones 
were  snugly  packed,  there  was  just  room  for  the 
skull,  which  grinned  gleefully  over  the  edge  at  the 
mourners.  The  basket  was  then  filed  away  in  the 
garret,  there  to  remain  until  accidentally  disturbed. 
The  blazing  days  and  stifling  nights  dragged  along 
for  two  full  months.  Not  another  sail,  nor  anything 
but  birds  and  alligators,  had  Tom  seen.  Suddenly 
a  strange  activity  pervaded  the  colony.  This  was 
brought  about  by  the  passage  of  three  west-bound 
canoes  loaded  with  Indians,  who  hailed  the  village. 
Much  shouting  and  excited  waving  of  arms  ensued. 
Tom  understood  that  the  strangers  were  admonish- 
ing his  friends  that  the  time  had  arrived  to  go  tur- 


142  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

tling.  Hasty  preparations  were  made,  and  the  next 
morning  all  the  grown  people,  except  a  couple  of 
aged  squaws,  and  all  the  children  over  fifteen  years 
of  age,  embarked  in  canoes  and  catamarans.  The 
trade  wind  was  strong  and  steady.  They  set  their 
sails,  and,  in  spite  of  the  four-  or  five-knot  current, 
made  very  fair  progress  to  the  westward. 

They  told  Tom  they  were  going  far  up  the 
river  for  turtles'  eggs.  He  welcomed  the  change 
heartily.  The  catamarans,  being  fine  sailers,  took 
the  canoes  in  tow,  and  they  skimmed  merrily  over 
the  yellow  water.  During  the  first  few  days,  the 
change  affected  even  the  phlegmatic  Indians,  and 
an  air  of  joyful  activity  pervaded  the  fleet.  This 
soon  wore  off,  however,  and  they  relapsed  into 
their  normal  state.  Tom  forgot  that  he  was 
virtually  a  prisoner.  He  was  greatly  interested 
in  the  tales  they  told  of  the  great  turtle  country. 
He  learned  that  they  expected  to  be  two  or  three 
weeks  on  the  way,  and  would  pass  a  great  city 
of  white  men,  called  "Angostura."  He  wondered 
if  he  might  not  be  able  to  escape  when  they 
arrived  there,  but  he  found  they  had  no  intention 
of  stopping.  They  sailed  continuously,  night  and 
day. 

As  the  Orinoco  is  more  like  an  inland  sea  than 
a  river,  and  the  Indians  kept  well  out  in  the 
stream,  Tom  saw  but  little  of  the  land.  Occasion- 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WARUNAS        143 

ally  a  palm-thatched  hut  could  be  seen  nestling 
under  the  luxuriant  foliage,  but  the  inhabitants 
were  either  asleep  in  their  hammocks  or  off  to  the 
turtle  harvest.  Before  they  had  been  a  week  out, 
they  began  to  see  an  occasional  "  Bonga,"  or 
"  Lancha,"  making  its  way  between  river  ports. 
The  sight  was  reassuring.  It  reminded  him  that 
they  were  away  from  the  mud-bank  at  last,  and 
he  promised  himself  never  to  return  to  it. 

One  day  a  big  American  schooner  came  beating 
down  against  the  trade  wind.  She  passed  so  near 
the  little  fleet  that  Tom  could  see  the  man  at  the 
wheel  and  the  captain  leaning  on  the  corner  of 
the  cabin.  He  shouted  and  waved  his  arms.  The 
captain  looked  listlessly  in  their  direction,  saw  an 
Indian  boy  waving  his  arms,  but  paid  no  further 
attention. 

Tom's  heart  sank  and  his  eyes  filled,  as  the 
handsome  schooner  glided  gracefully  away,  gently 
courtesying  to  the  ripples. 

A  couple  of  days  later  they  passed  Angostura, 
or  Bolivar,  with  a  small  place  called  Soledad  on 
the  opposite  side.  Tom  gazed  longingly  at  the 
dome-shaped  hill  and  the  buildings.  They  were 
the  first  he  had  seen  since  leaving  Boston.  He 
begged  the  Indians  to  put  him  ashore.  Had  it 
not  been  for  the  caribes,  great  as  the  distance 
was,  he  would  have  swam  for  it.  The  Indians 


144  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

paid  no  attention  to  his  pleadings,  but  held 
stolidly  to  their  course.  Tom  wondered  if  he 
would  ever  speak  to  a  civilized  man  again.  His 
position  seemed  almost  ridiculous. 

This  long  river  trip  came  to  an  end  at  last, 
and  they  arrived  at  their  destination,  —  a  group  of 
sand-bars  uncovered  by  the  falling  river.  For 
several  days  there  had  been  many  turtles  in  the 
river,  all  swimming  in  the  same  direction,  upstream. 
On  the  morning  of  their  arrival  the  river  was 
almost  impassable,  so  numerous  had  they  become. 
There  were  hundreds  of  Indians  ahead  of  them  — 
for  they  were  a  little  late,  and  the  harvest  was  in 
full  blast.  The  instant  the  canoes  reached  the 
shore,  the  younger  members  of  the  party  jumped 
out  on  the  sand,  shouting  and  yelling  with  glee ; 
they  rushed  to  the  shallow  pools  which  the  first- 
comers  had  scraped  in  the  sand  and  stocked  with 
baby  turtles.  These  they  seized  and  thrust  in 
their  mouths,  all  squirming.  They  crunched  and 
swallowed  them  with  the  same  zest  that  Tom 
would  have  eaten  strawberries.  The  turtles  were 
so  numerous  they  were  unable  to  wait  until  night, 
or  even  to  dig  holes  for  nests.  They  scrambled  out 
of  the  water  in  all  directions,  jostling  each  other 
and  scattering  their  eggs  all  over  the  place.  The 
blazing  sun  shrivelled  and  spoiled  them  by  thousands, 
and  one  could  hardly  take  a  step  without  tram- 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WARUNAS        145 

pling  eggs  and  young  turtles  under  foot.  The 
Indian  boys  played  ball  with  the  eggs,  and  pitched 
young  turtles  into  each  other's  open  mouths.  Such 
lavish  abundance  of  natural  wealth  Tom  had  never 
seen  anywhere,  not  even  in  this  land,  where  nature 
spontaneously  produces  everything  in  extravagance. 
He  had  seen  the  river  teeming  with  countless 
varieties  of  fish,  and  the  forests  and  mud-banks 
crowded  with  birds  and  animals,  but  here  was  a 
scene  of  prolific  animal  life  the  like  of  which  is 
probably  not  to  be  found  elsewhere  on  earth. 

All  hands  commenced  work  at  once.  Fires  were 
built,  at  which  the  women  dried  the  turtle  flesh  and 
eggs  for  future  use.  While  a  part  of  the  men 
slaughtered  turtles,  others  proceeded  to  build  straw 
huts  for  the  party  to  live  in  during  their  stay. 
The  boys  and  girls  gathered  eggs.  Tom  was  of 
this  party.  At  first  they  simply  picked  up  the 
eggs  that  lay  about,  but  as  many  of  these  were 
addled,  having  been  exposed  to  the  hot  sun  of  the 
previous  day  and  afterwards  to  the  cool  night  air, 
they  let  them  lie,  and  dug  from  the  nests.  In 
each  nest  would  be  one  large  egg,  —  a  male ;  these 
they  invariably  threw  at  each  other. 

When  they  saw  an  unusually  large  turtle,  they 
would  turn  her  on  her  back  and  leave  her  vainly 
waving  her  flippers  until  the  arrival  of  the  men. 
As  the  supply  of  eggs  was  inexhaustible,  the 


146  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

women  soon  had  more  than  they  could  dry  in 
a  day,  so  a  couple  of  canoes  were  washed  carefully 
and  blocked  up  level  on  the  sand.  The  eggs  were 
washed  until  perfectly  free  from  sand  and  thrown 
into  the  canoes.  Water  was  added,  and  then  the 
boys  got  in  with  their  bare  feet  and  mashed  up 
the  eggs.  On  this  mixture  being  left  in  the  sun, 
the  oil  would  float  to  the  surface,  and  was  after- 
wards refined  in  pots  over  the  fire.  The  daily 
food  consisted  of  turtles  and  turtles'  eggs,  and 
Tom  was  surprised  at  the  culinary  skill  which  the 
squaws  exhibited,  as  they  cooked  the  delicious 
morsels  in  an  infinite  variety  of  ways,  each  appar- 
ently better  than  the  other.  In  spite  of  the  rich- 
ness of  the  eggs  and  meat,  they  appeared  perfectly 
wholesome,  and  did  not  cloy  on  the  appetite.  All 
hands  got  fat,  and  were  as  jolly  as  aldermen. 

During  the  passage  up  the  river,  Tom  had 
noticed  many  fires  on  shore.  The  Indians,  in  an- 
swer to  his  questions,  had  told  him  they  were 
built  by  the  "  Llaneros  "  to  burn  off  the  dead  grass. 
"  Llaneros  !  "  They  would  be  white  men. 

About  a  week  after  their  arrival,  a  big  fire  was 
seen  away  to  the  northward  on  the  great  treeless 
plain,  or  Llano.  In  the  evening,  while  the  women 
were  skimming  the  oil  pots,  and  the  men  were 
lying  about  in  the  warm  sand,  Tom  strayed  down 
to  the  beach.  There  were  few  Indians  away  from 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WARUNAS        147 

their  camp.  Jaguars  roamed  the  beach  at  night. 
Tom  watched  the  sparks  flying  through  the  dense 
black  smoke,  and  the  great  sheets  of  flame  that 
shot  up  like  fiery  tongues  as  an  extra  heavy  bunch 
of  grass,  or  perhaps  a  small  bush,  contributed  its 
mite  to  the  grand  spectacle.  He  had  a  small 
bag  of  dried  eggs.  A  canoe  had  just  been  emptied 
of  oil  and  lay  on  its  side,  draining.  He  put  his 
shoulder  to  her,  dug  his  toes  in  the  sand,  gave 
a  mighty  heave,  and  she  was  afloat.  Cautiously 
he  boarded  her,  on  the  dark  side,  confiscating 
a  paddle  which  was  sticking  in  the  sand.  He 
gave  her  a  shove,  and  lay  down  quietly  in  the 
bottom.  Presently  he  heard  voices.  Then  the 
firelight  flickered  across  the  canoe  above  him. 
Presently  a  voice  —  the  voice  of  the  old  Indian 
who  ran  him  down  in  the  Spofford's  long-boat,— 
cried  in  startled  tones :  "  Whose  canoe  is  that 
adrift?" 


CHAPTER  X 

TOM  ESCAPES  FROM  THE  WARUNAS  —  LOS  LLANOS, 

Y  LOS  LLANEROS TOM'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  EL  HATO 

DE  SANTA  BARBARA DON  RAMON,  THE  REBEL  CHIEF 

TOM  heard  and  understood.  He  decided  to  put 
on  a  bold  face,  and  raising  his  head  above  the  gun- 
wale replied  in,  as  he  flattered  himself,  excellent 
Waruna :  "  She's  not  adrift;  I'm  going  up  to  the 
other  island  on  a  visit." 

His  old  friend  recognized  his  voice,  raised  a 
howl,  and  two  canoes  were  at  once  launched  in  pur- 
suit. It  was  now  or  never,  so  Tom  seized  the 
paddle  and  plied  it  as  no  Waruna  had  ever  done 
since  they  fled  before  the  cannibal  Caribes  to  the 
mud-banks  of  the  great  delta.  He  had  a  little  start, 
and  his  pursuers  could  not  get  up  enough  enthusi- 
asm to  entirely  overcome  their  natural  laziness. 
Tom's  canoe  shoved  her  nose  in  the  sand  a  half 
dozen  lengths  ahead  of  his  foremost  pursuer.  He 
dropped  the  paddle  overboard,  seized  his  bag  of 
dried  eggs,  and  leaped  ashore.  Turning,  he  gave 
the  canoe  a  sturdy  shove  out  —  it  was  a  lucky 
thought  —  and  sprinted  for  the  interior  and  liberty. 

148 


THE    REBEL    CHIEF  149 

The  Indians,  valuing  the  canoe  more  than  they 
did  him,  never  landed  at  all.  Without  even  a 
glance  over  his  shoulder  Tom  ran  while  his  breath 
lasted.  Then  he  walked  towards  the  fire,  which 
had  now  burned  itself  pretty  well  out.  He  fell 
into  several  armadillo  holes,  —  frightening  both  him- 
self and  the  occupants, —  floundered  through  small 
puddles  of  water  alive  with  fish  and  Bavas,  a  species 
of  small  alligator,  but  escaped  all  harm.  Becom- 
ing too  tired  to  proceed,  he  decided  to  lie  down 
and  wait  for  daylight.  In  the  vast  Llano  there 
seemed  to  be  no  choice  of  places,  so  he  was  about 
to  throw  himself  on  the  ground,  when  he  heard  an 
ominous  rattling,  saw  something  move,  and  by  the 
faint  starlight  he  discovered  that  he  had  nearly 
lain  down  on  a  six-foot  snake. 

This  sight  rested  him  so  much  that  he  continued 
to  walk  until  daylight,  when  he  discovered  a  clump 
of  small  palm-trees.  With  a  handful  of  grass  he 
swept  the  ground  under  them,  disturbing  many 
small  animals.  He  walked  around  the  group  and 
carefully  inspected  the  tops.  Seeing  nothing  more 
ferocious  than  squawking  birds,  he  lay  down  and 
dropped  asleep  at  once. 

He  awoke,  lying  flat  on  his  back.  The  hot  sun 
was  blazing,  the  perspiration  was  pouring  from 
him,  and  he  was  nearly  hidden  by  a  swarm  of 
flies.  He  sat  up,  brushed  the  insects  away,  and 


150  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

looked  forth  on  the  great  level  "  Llano  of  the 
Apure."  He  heard  a  rumbling  like  distant  thunder 
and  felt  a  tremor  in  the  earth.  Remembering  the 
famous  earthquake  of  Caracas,  he  scrambled  to 
his  feet.  It  was  only  a  herd  of  cattle  on  the  other 
side  of  his  clump  of  palms,  driven  by  a  couple  of 
men  on  horseback.  Tom  stepped  out  in  full  view 
and  shouted,  waving  his  arms  and  running  toward 
them. 

A  brawny  mulatto,  with  a  wide  hat  that  flapped 
as  he  rode,  and  a  pair  of  cart-wheel  spurs  strapped 
to  his  naked  heels,  galloped  up  to  him  like  a  whirl- 
wind. As  he  came  tearing  on,  with  his  long  black 
hair  flying  in  the  wind,  and  doing  a  lot  of  entirely 
unnecessary  yelling,  Tom  began  to  fear  that  he 
had  made  a  mistake  and  was  trespassing  on  the 
grounds  of  a  lunatic  asylum.  The  vaquero  rode 
straight  at  him.  Tom's  Yankee  was  up,  and  he 
stood  his  ground.  The  wild  man  nearly  threw  his 
horse  on  his  haunches,  as,  swerving  a  bit  to  one 
side,  he  stopped  within  four  feet  of  him,  and  asked 
in  Spanish  who  he  was  and  how  he  came  there. 
In  a  mixture  of  English  and  Waruna,  Tom  gave  a 
brief  account  of  himself,  but  the  vaquero,  not  under- 
standing, ordered  him,  partly  by  signs,  to  mount 
behind  himself. 

Although  the  horse  stood  like  a  rock,  Tom  was 
unable  to  accomplish  the  feat,  never  having  been  on 


THE   REBEL   CHIEF  151 

horseback  in  his  life.  With  a  grunt  of  disgust,  the 
yellow  giant  seized  him  by  the  collar,  and  before 
he  knew  it  he  was  seated.  The  vaquero  dug  his 
spurs  into  the  animal's  ribs  and  let  out  one  of  his 
unearthly  yells.  They  darted  forward  as  though 
fired  from  a  gun,  Tom  barely  saving  himself  from 
a  tumble  over  the  stern  by  clutching  wildly  at  his 
captor's  waist.  Away  they  went  at  a  terrific  pace, 
right  in  among  the  cattle,  who  were  rearing  and 
plunging  in  frantic  fear.  The  dust  was  blinding, 
and  in  spite  of  his  death  grip  Tom  could  hardly 
retain  his  seat.  As  the  mulatto  swayed  about  con- 
tinually, shouting  and  yelling  at  the  cattle,  Tom 
expected  every  minute  to  be  thrown  off  and  have 
his  brains  dashed  out.  He  was  so  busy  hanging 
on,  that  he  was  unable  to  look  where  they  were 
going,  and  when  the  headlong  race  came  to  a  par- 
tial stop,  he  was  surprised  to  see  a  number  of  low, 
palm-thatched  buildings.  This  was  the  headquar- 
ters of  "  El  Hato  de  Santa  Barbara,"  one  of  the  great 
cattle  farms  of  the  Apure.  The  stock  were  franti- 
cally rushing  and  jostling  into  the  Majada,  a  corral 
formed  by  driving  heavy  posts  into  the  ground, 
thus  forming  a  great  pen  with  a  funnel-shaped 
entrance. 

The  mulatto  leaped  lightly  to  the  ground,  and  as 
Tom  had  not  relaxed  his  hold,  he  was  dragged 
after  him,  falling  in  a  heap.  This  caused  a  hearty 


152  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

laugh  from  the  assembled  vaqueros,  who  fired  a 
rapid  volley  of  questions  at  "Juan  Amarillo,"  as 
to  where  he  had  found  his  queer  prize.  They 
invited  Tom  to  breakfast.  The  fresh  beef,  seared 
at  an  open  fire,  "  Cafe  con  leche,"  and  tortillas 
tasted  wonderfully  fine  to  him  after  being  so  .long 
confined  to  the  diet  of  the  Warunas.  To  the  great 
surprise  of  the  vaqueros,  Tom  declined  their  offer 
of  aguardiente.  Such  men  were  unfamiliar  on  the 
llanos. 

After  breakfast  some  of  the  men  entered  the 
majada  and  drove  a  lot  of  the  animals  into  the 
corrallejas  —  which  was  a  smaller  enclosure.  They 
packed  them  in  as  tightly  as  they  could  stand,  and 
the  majordomo,  who  was  to  boss  the  job,  several 
vaqueros  armed  with  garrochas,  —  a  ten-foot  com- 
bination goad  and  rattle,  —  and  all  the  boys  on  the 
place,  including  Tom,  mounted  the  fence.  Three 
men,  armed  with  lassos,  then  entered  the  corrallejas 
among  the  frenzied  wild  animals  and  commenced 
lassoing  calves.  Tom  thought  they  would  all  surely 
be  killed.  The  cows  resented  the  attacks  on  their 
offspring,  and  when  a  poor  little  calf,  bellowing 
piteously  under  the  merciless  prods  of  the  garrochas 
and  the  cruel  tail-twistings  to  which  it  was  subjected, 
was  dragged  toward  the  gate,  its  mother  would  make 
frantic  efforts  to  get  to  it;  but  being  packed  so 
tightly,  the  poor  parent's  efforts  were  unavailing. 


THE   REBEL   CHIEF  153 

Once  through  the  gate,  the  unfortunate  was  seized 
and  thrown,  and  when  half  a  dozen  were  ready, 
a  white-hot  brand  was  stamped  hissing  upon  their 
flanks.  Again  they  bellowed  and  kicked,  their  pro- 
tests being  answered  from  within.  Sometimes  they 
discovered  a  young  bull,  two  or  three  years  old, 
who  had  so  far  escaped.  Then  there  was  fun.  He 
could  not  be  so  easily  lassoed  and  dragged  out.  He 
would  fight. 

After  the  crowd  on  the  fence  had  goaded  him  with 
their  garrochas,  and  yelled  until  they  were  tired,  one 
venturesome  fellow  leaped  nimbly  into  the  seething 
pit  of  tossing  horns,  and  gave  the  princeling's  tail 
a  furious  twist.  He  may  have  defied  all  other 
methods,  but  the  tail-twist  is  a  convincing  argu- 
ment, and,  with  a  snort  of  fear  and  pain,  he  dashed 
through  the  open  gate.  The  fellow  with  the  lasso 
had  preceded  him,  catching  a  turn  around  a  post 
like  a  man  snubbing  a  canal  boat.  As  the  infuriated 
animal  rushed  blindly  about,  the  llanero  improved 
every  opportunity  of  taking  in  slack,  until  he  had 
the  bull  safely  moored  by  a  very  short  warp  to  the 
botalon.  One  brown-skinned  mass  of  bones  and 
sinews  grabs  the  animal  by  the  hind  legs  and 
another  by  the  tail.  They  tug  and  sweat,  the  dust 
of  the  fray  envelops  them,  and  the  excited  specta- 
tors on  the  fence  shout  encouragingly  to  men  and 
bull :  "  Bravo,  Juan  !  "  or  "  Bien  hecho  toro,  da  le 


154  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

una  patada  mi  hijo  !  "  ("  Hooray,  John  !  "  or  "  Well 
done,  bull!  Give  him  a  kick,  my  son")  and  so  on 
with  the  utmost  impartiality.  Suddenly  there  is  a 
crash,  and  the  voices  of  the  wrestlers  are  heard  pant- 
ingly  making  disparaging  remarks  concerning  the 
characters  of  the  bull's  female  ancestors  for  several 
generations  back ;  the  dust  settles,  or  thins  a  bit, 
and  the  proud  young  animal  lies  prostrate.  After 
maiming  and  disfiguring  him,  he  was  let  up,  and  then 
he  had  his  innings.  As  there  was  no  more  to  be  done 
to  him,  the  llaneros  desired  him  to  leave,  but  revenge 
is  sweet.  Leaping  to  his  feet,  his  eyes  rolling  in  a 
frenzy  of  fear  and  rage,  and  lashing  his  sore  flanks 
with  his  recently  outraged  tail,  he  charged  wildly  on 
his  tormenters.  The  crowd  on  the  fence  cheered 
him  lustily;  but  his  blind  rage  was  no  match  for 
the  nimble  heels  of  his  foes.  They  jeered  at  him  as 
they  deftly  stepped  aside,  allowing  him  to  charge 
vainly  on  the  empty  air.  A  new  and  inexplicable 
sorrow  had  come  into  his  young  life.  He  left  the 
place  dehorned,  branded,  and  an  ox. 

At  dinner  time,  Tom  was  introduced  to  Don 
Rosario,  the  majordomo,  who  was  a  magnificent 
specimen  of  the  Venezuelan  llanero.  Big,  broad- 
chested,  and  muscular,  his  fine  face  was  brightened 
by  a  pair  of  flashing  black  eyes  and  ornamented 
with  a  fierce-looking  moustache.  He  questioned 
Tom,  but  of  course  learned  nothing.  The  dinner  was 


THE   REBEL   CHIEF  155 

enlivened  by  much  loud  and  excited  conversation, 
good-natured  jokes,  and  hearty  laughter.  Tom  re- 
gretted his  inability  to  understand  the  conversation, 
for  it  would  have  been  pleasant  to  talk  once  more 
with  people. 

The  branding  was  continued  after  dinner,  and 
finished  about  three  o'clock.  Several  young  bulls 
were  then  collected  in  the  corrallejas,  and  some  of 
them  were  tied  to  the  botalon.  The  boys  immediately 
jumped  down  from  the  fence.  Tom  was  pushed  off 
from  behind.  A  couple  of  lusty  vaqueros  seized 
him  and  tossed  him  astride  one  of  the  bulls,  back- 
wards. The  tail  was  handed  him,  and  the  bull 
prodded  to  frenzy  with  the  garrochas.  Mechanically 
Tom  clinched  his  legs  around  the  neck  of  his  charger, 
who  tore  round  the  enclosure  like  an  animated  whirl- 
wind. By  the  time  Tom  was  started,  all  the  boys 
had  received  mounts,  and,  as  the  gate  was  open, 
the  bulls  made  a  break  for  liberty.  Scared  though 
he  was,  and  sore  from  his  morning's  ride,  Tom  knew 
he  must  keep  his  seat.  It  would  never  do  to  be 
beaten  by  the  boys.  To  his  surprise,  after  the  lapse 
of  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  he  was  not  only  alive,  but 
still  on  board  his  uncomfortable  craft.  Through 
the  clouds  of  dusc  he  caught  fleeting  glimpses  of 
boys  and  bulls,  as  they  flew  across  his  field  of  vision 
like  shooting  stars.  The  shouts,  yells,  and  roars  of 
laughter  of  the  vaqueros,  accompanied  by  the  rat- 


156  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

tling  of  the  rings  on  their  garrochas,  stimulated  the 
bulls  to  wilder  bursts  of  speed.  They  kicked,  bucked, 
and  shied  in  their  efforts  to  be  rid  of  their  burdens. 

Having  discovered  that  he  could  stay  on,  Tom  now 
wondered  how  he  was  to  get  off.  His  steed  was 
now  circling  around  the  bunch  at  some  little  distance, 
which  enabled  him  to  obtain  a  pretty  good  view  of 
the  performance  of  the  others.  A  young  fellow 
suddenly  leaped  from  his  bull,  while  in  full  career, 
and,  without  letting  go  of  the  tail,  he  seized  a  horn 
with  the  other  hand,  and  ran  by  the  beast's  side. 
Tom  saw  him  twist  and  jerk  the  tail  to  make  the 
maddened  bull  increase  its  speed.  There  appeared 
to  be  a  scuffle,  a  great  cloud  of  dust  was  raised,  and 
other  animals  and  their  riders  intervened  and  cut 
off  the  view.  When  Tom  again  caught  sight  of  the 
pair,  the  bull  was  on  his  back,  and  the  young  vaquero 
sat  upon  him  in  triumph,  holding  the  bull's  tail  be- 
tween its  legs.  Now  Tom  knew  how  to  dismount. 

His  own  playfellow  was  as  lively  as  a  newly 
caught  skip-jack,  and  getting  fuller  of  kinks  every 
minute.  The  volley  of  "bravos"  that  greeted  the 
other  successful  young  fellow  encouraged  Tom  to 
try.  He  had  not  had  a  good  view  of  the  whole 
performance,  and  had  grave  doubts  of  his  ability  ; 
but  he  was  ambitious  to  get  out  of  the  boy  class. 

Successive  bravos  were  wafted  to  him  through 
the  din  of  his  own  performance,  telling  him  that  the 


THE   REBEL  CHIEF  157 

boys  were  dismounting  one  after  the  other.  He 
must  hurry  up.  There  seemed  to  be  no  choice  of 
time  or  place,  or  if  there  was,  he  was  unable  to 
recognize  it.  He  was  becoming  tired  of  the  strained 
position.  It  must  be  now  or  never.  He  let  go 
with  his  legs,  and,  remembering  that  he  was  pro- 
gressing backwards,  attempted  to  vault  off. 

He  was  conscious  of  a  great  noise,  a  flashing  of 
lightnings,  and  of  swallowing  a  quantity  of  dust,  and 
then  he  lay  on  a  pile  of  hides  in  one  of  the  houses, 
sore  all  over,  his  clothes  torn  to  rags,  and  himself 
more  or  less  covered  with  blood,  and  raw  spots. 
Painfully,  after  many  trials,  he  rose  to  his  feet.  A 
short  inspection  proved  that  he  was  all  there,  and 
possessed  of  many  newly  acquired  protuberances. 
He  limped  to  the  doorway  just  as  old  Manuel,  the 
lame  cook,  hobbled  past  with  a  calabash  of  water. 
He  wondered  if  Manuel  had  received  his  injuries 
from  riding,  or  rather  dismounting  from  .a  wild  bull. 
The  old  fellow  leered  at  him,  muttered  something, 
and  beckoned  him  to  follow. 

He  followed  Manuel  to  his  cooking  place.  The 
old  fellow  chattered  in  his  incomprehensible  lingo, 
taught  him  to  drink  "mate"  through  a  tube,  and 
helped  him  to  cleanse  and  repair  himself.  When 
the  vaqueros  returned  for  the  night,  they  chaffed 
him  and  laughed  at  him  good-naturedly..  They  sat 
.up  late,  whiling  away  the  time  with  music,  singing, 


158  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

dancing,  and  telling  stories.  Tom  gave  them  "  Hail 
Columbia,"  "Yankee  Doodle,"  and  "Haul  the  Bow- 
line," and  they  learned  the  chorus  of  the  latter,  join- 
ing in  heartily.  By  the  time  they  were  tired  of  their 
diversion,  and  ready  to  turn  into  their  chinchorros  for 
the  night,  Tom  believed  he  had  partly  effaced  any 
bad  impression  made  by  his  fluke  in  bull  riding. 

Before  daylight  they  were  up  again,  saddling  their 
horses.  Tom  made  Don  Rosario  understand  that  he 
wished  to  go  with  them  and  make  himself  useful. 
The  majordomo  called  up  a  bright  young  fellow, 
Santiago  Nunez  by  name,  and,  after  giving  him  some 
instructions,  turned  Tom  over  to  him. 

Tom  Benton,  the  Portland  sailor,  now  entered  upon 
a  course  of  education  as  a  vaquero,  which  continued 
for  nearly  a  year.  He  never  became  as  expert  as  the 
natives :  they  are  bred  to  the  business  from  their  child- 
hood, and  know  nothing  else  ;  but  he  learned  to  ride 
as  only  cowboys  can.  He  got  on  well  with  the  entire 
outfit,  but  Santiago  was  his  bosom  friend.  When 
Tom  acquired  enough  of  the  language  to  converse 
intelligently,  he  was  in  great  demand  as  a  story- 
teller. The  hardy  llaneros  would  ride  miles  from 
neighboring  hatos  to  listen  to  the  strange  tales  told 
by  the  "marinero  Americano,"  and  as  they  knew 
absolutely  nothing  of  the  world,  outside  their  own 
llanos,  Tom's  stories  interested  them  as  fairy  tales  do 
children. 


THE   REBEL  CHIEF  159 

He  enjoyed  the  life  exceedingly.  Aside  from  the 
excitement  of  the  cattle  business,  the  plains,  pools, 
and  rivers  teemed  with  strange  and  beautiful  forms 
of  animal  life.  Hardly  a  day  passed  without  a  new 
and  interesting  discovery.  He  became  familiar  with 
animals,  birds,  and  fishes,  of  which  he  had  read  and 
seen  pictures ;  crocodiles  and  electric  eels,  the  great 
anteater  and  the  armadillo,  monkeys  and  parrots  of 
many  kinds ;  vultures,  toucans,  herons,  wild  ducks, 
and  turkeys,  an  infinite  variety.  Then  there  were 
jaguars,  boa  constrictors  and  poisonous  snakes,  rep- 
tiles and  insects  galore ;  while  wild  hogs  and  deer 
furnished  them  with  sport  and  a  change  of  diet  from 
beef,  fish,  and  fowl. 

He  had  many  painful  falls,  and  was  subjected  to 
much  good-natured  chaffing,  before  he  learned  to 
ride  perfectly.  He  had  also  many  narrow  escapes 
before  he  became  sufficiently  expert  with  the  lasso 
and  garrocha  to  protect  himself  and  master  the  wild 
animals ;  but  he  stuck  to  it  bravely,  rubbed  his  hurts 
and  tried  again.  After  the  third  trial,  and  much 
coaching  from  Santiago,  he  threw  his  first  bull.  To 
seize  a  wildly  fleeing  bull  by  the  tail,  and  when 
necessary  leap  from  one's  horse's  back  and  throw 
the  animal,  is  an  art  that  requires  practice,  and  Tom 
felt  quite  elated  when  he  accomplished  it.  Santiago 
told  of  it  that  night,  and  the  old  vaqueros  slapped 
Tom  on  the  back  and  congratulated  him  heartily. 


160  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  Now,  indeed,"  they  said,  "  he  was  learning  to  be 
a  man." 

The  rainy  season  came,  and  they  drove  their 
stock  to  the  high  land,  the  "  matas"  which  seem 
to  have  been  especially  provided  as  refuges  in 
these  vast  plains  during  the  time  of  the  annual 
drowning  out.  The  wild  inhabitants  accompanied 
them.  This  was  not  an  unmixed  pleasure ;  for  the 
scarcity  of  food  made  them  overbold,  and  neces- 
sitated keeping  a  strict  watch  night  and  day.  The 
vaqueros  were  obliged  to  make  a  careful  search  of 
the  camp  before  retiring,  and  to  kill  or  drive  out 
the  snakes,  scorpions,  centipedes,  tarantulas,  etc., 
who  made  themselves  entirely  too  neighborly  for 
comfort.  The  dreary  wet  nights  were  made  hideous 
by  the  screeching  and  howling  of  owls,  monkeys, 
and  jaguars,  who  seemed  bent  on  keeping  every  one 
else  awake  as  well  as  themselves. 

This  dreadful  season  was  very  depressing  to  the 
spirits  of  the  men.  They  slouched  through  their 
duties  in  a  half-hearted  way,  and  there  was  no  fun 
in  them,  so  that  all  hands,  including  the  animals, 
rejoiced  when  the  rains  ceased.  When  the  sun 
once  more  appeared,  the  mud  quickly  dried,  and 
the  tropical  vegetation  grew  in  leaps.  It  was  a 
joyful  day  when  Don  Rosario  ordered  a  return  to 
the  plain.  With  whoops  and  yells,  swinging  lassos 
and  brandishing  garrochas,  the  herd  was  rounded 


THE   REBEL   CHIEF  l6l 

up,  and  the  two  days'  drive  to  the  ranch  began. 
But  little  damage  had  been  caused  by  the  flood : 
there  was  a  deposit  of  mud  over  everything,  but 
the  new  grass  was  already  springing  up,  and  within 
a  week  the  only  trace  remaining  of  the  inundation 
was  the  high-water  mark  on  houses  and  trees. 

About  six  weeks  after  their  return,  the  vaqueros 
were  surprised  by  a  visit  from  Don  Ramon,  the 
owner,  who  came  with  a  party  of  friends  from  far- 
off  Caracas.  He  was  received  with  shouts  of  wel- 
come by  his  men,  who  galloped  madly  round  and 
round  his  little  cavalcade,  displaying  their  daring 
horsemanship,  and  yelling  to  their  hearts'  content. 
After  bowing  gravely,  hat  in  hand,  in  acknowledg- 
ment of  their  welcome,  the  Don,  who  was  a  hand- 
some old  gentlemen  with  long  white  moustache,  with- 
drew with  his  friends  to  the  house  of  the  major- 
domo  for  dinner.  Swift  riders  were  dispatched  to 
the  distant  parts  of  the  hato,  to  call  the  rest  of 
the  men  in  for  inspection. 

Before  sundown  they  were  all  drawn  up  in  front 
of  the  house  —  a  hundred  and  fifty  as  tough-looking 
bashi-bazouks  as  were  ever  corralled  at  once.  When 
Don  Ramon  appeared,  they  rent  the  hot  air  with 
vivas.  He  and  his  friends  bowed  again  and  again ; 
but  it  seemed  that  they  would  never  be  done. 
Their  enthusiasm  was  so  spontaneous,  so  hearty, 
so  full  of  life  and  vim,  that  it  seemed  a  pity  to 

M 


1 62  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

cut  it  off;  but  the  old  warrior  had  something  to 
say.  He  raised  his  hand  for  silence.  When  they 
choked  back  their  noise  and  quieted  their  horses, 
he  said  in  a  strong,  deep,  melodious  voice  —  a 
voice  that  one  could  imagine  rising  clear  above 
the  din  and  clash  of  arms  :  — 

"  My  children,  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  find 
you  all  well  and  prosperous.  It  is  a  little  more  than 
a  year  since  I  was  here  last,  and  Don  Rosario  has 
given  me  a  very  gratifying  account  of  your  ser- 
vices since  that  time.  But  I  have  not  come  here 
simply  to  compliment  you  on  the  faithful  perform- 
ance of  your  duties :  that  would  be  the  merest 
idleness,  for  when  have  you  been  otherwise  than 
faithful  ?  No,  my  sons,  I  have  come  on  a  much 
more  important  mission.  Important  to  you,  to  me, 
and  to  Venezuela.  Don  Jorge,  who  promised  so 
much  when  we  installed  him  in  the  presidential 
chair,  has  steadily  receded  from  the  duties  which 
he  solemnly  swore  to  perform.  He  has  violated 
the  oath  he  took  to  support  the  constitution  and 
defend  the  flag;  he  has  conspired  with  our  ene- 
mies ;  and  when  we  remonstrated  with  him,  he  as- 
sumed the  character  of  dictator.  My  children,  our 
country  is  in  danger.  This  vile  traitor  has  seized 
the  treasury  and  corrupted  the  army.  To-day,  I, 
your  patron,  am  an  exile ;  driven  from  Caracas 
by  Don  Jorge  !  " 


THE   REBEL   CHIEF  163 

His  voice  had  gradually  risen  until  it  rang  out 
a  clarion  note.  He  was  bareheaded,  and  his  white 
hair  seemed  to  rise  and  surround  his  fine  old  head 
like  a  halo.  Men  and  horses  were  as  silent  and 
immovable  as  statues ;  but  when  he  paused  for  a 
moment  at  the  end  of  that  last  sentence,  which  he 
knew  his  faithful  followers  would  accept  as  indict- 
ment and  proof  of  foulest  treason,  a  roar  went  up, 
the  like  of  which  was  never  heard  before  in  "  El 
Hato  de  Santa  Barbara."  They  cheered  wildly  for 
their  patron,  and  consigned  the  President  and  all  his 
family,  friends  and  followers,  to  the  deepest,  darkest, 
and  most  dismal  dungeons  in  the  nether  world. 

A  semblance  of  quiet  having  been  restored,  Don 
Ramon  continued :  — 

"  I  thank  you,  my  children,  for  this  expression  of 
loyalty.  I  knew  I  could  trust  my  brave  llaneros. 
Venezuela,  in  this  her  hour  of  need,  looks  to  you, 
to  the  gallant  llaneros  of  the  Apure,  to  extricate  her 
from  the  toils  in  which  Don  Jorge,  the  base  tra'itor, 
has  bound  her.  I  and  my  friends  go  to  visit  the 
other  hatos  of  the  Apure  and  La  Portugesa ;  but 
I  will  return  in  a  couple  of  weeks  to  lead  you  to 
Caracas.  We  will  teach  those  despicable  traitors 
that,  in  the  llanos,  Venezuela  has  brave  sons  who 
will  not  stand  idly  by  and  see  her  good  name  defiled, 
nor  her  banner  trailed  in  the  mire." 

Once   more    sombreros    waved,   garrochas   rattled 


1 64  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

wildly,  and  a  hundred  and  fifty  lusty  throats  en- 
dorsed the  speaker's  words.  They  cheered  for  Don 
Ramon ;  for  his  companions ;  for  Venezuela ;  the 
flag  and  the  llanos. 

Don  Ramon,  with  his  hand  on  his  heart,  bowed 
low.  He  bowed  over  and  over  again.  A  grim 
smile  overspread  his  features  as  he  turned  to  his 
co-conspirators  and  asked  their  opinion  of  his  llane- 
ros.  And  so  a  revolution  was  born. 


CHAPTER   XI 

EXCITEMENT    IN    THE    LLANOS TOM    BECOMES    A   PAR- 
TISAN  OFF    TO    THE    WARS A    TIRESOME    MARCH 

—  THE    SWAMP     OF    CAMAGUAN ENTHUSIASTIC    RE- 
CEPTION   AT    CALABOZO  —  GUNS  AND   AMMUNITION  - 
FAREWELL  TO  THE  FAIR  CALABOZANAS THE  ENEMY 

—  THE    NIGHT   ATTACK  —  THE    DEADLY    PASS    OF   CA- 
RACAS—  DEATH  OF  DON  RAMON — TOM  IS  RENDERED 
"HORS   DE    COMBAT  " 

WHILE  the  visitors  returned  to  the  house,  the 
men  gathered  in  knots,  eagerly  discussing  the  pros- 
pect of  war.  They  were  eager  to  follow  their  be- 
loved leader,  as  they  had  followed  him  before,  into 
battle,  and  the  cause  was  a  matter  of  indifference 
to  them.  Don  Ramon  had  said  that  he  wanted 
them,  and  his  quarrel  was  theirs.  Had  not  Don 
Jorge  exiled  their  beloved  patron  from  the  city  ? 
They  would  not  be  content  until  they  saw,  each 
one  for  himself,  Don  Ramon  with  his  foot  on  Don 
Jorge's  neck.  The  possibility  that  Don  Ramon 
might  be  wrong,  never  occurred  to  them. 

During  the  next  two  weeks  excitement  ran  high 
at  the  ranch,  The  vaqueros  were  like  children 

165 


1 66  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

impatient  for  a  holiday.  The  prospect  of  taking  part 
in  a  bloody  revolution  —  of  slaughtering  a  number 
of  their  own  countrymen  and  looting  their  homes  — 
elated  these  pastoral  gentlemen  to  the  seventh 
heaven.  How  much  nobler  to  kill  men  than  to  drive 
cows !  They  told  tales  of  former  wars  in  which 
they,  or  their  relatives,  had  followed  the  banner  of 
that  persistent  old  rebel  Don  Ramon,  and  indulged 
in  brilliant  flights  of  fancy  about  the  deeds  they 
would  do.  Saddles  and  stirrups  were  put  in  order, 
and  garrochas  and  machetes  overhauled  and  sharp- 
ened. New  horses  were  caught  and  broken,  and 
the  evenings  rang  with  improvised  songs,  reciting 
the  heroic  deeds  of  Don  Ramon  and  many  other 
turbulent  spirits  whose  fame  was  familiar. 

Was  a  cow  to  be  killed,  the  butcher  would  call 
to  his  companions  to  observe  what  he  would  do  to 
Don  Jorge.  When  a  vaquero  brought  a  wild  bull 
to  his  knees,  he  would  cry  out  gleefully  :  "  Asi !  asi ! 
Voy  a  hacer  al  traidor,  Don  Jorge,  caramba !  " 

Tom  became  inflamed  with  the  universal  enthusi- 
asm and  shouted :  "  Viva  Don  Ramon  y  Vene- 
zuela !  Muera  Don  Jorge  el  traidor !  "  as  lustily  as 
any.  The  vaqueros  looked  forward  eagerly  to  the 
possession  of  firearms,  which  alone  would  have  been 
a  sufficient  inducement  for  them  to  take  up  arms. 
Their  garrochas  and  machetes  —  murderous  weapons 
in  the  hands  of  such  experts  —  dwindled  into  insig- 


THE   DEADLY   PASS   OF  CARACAS  l6/ 

nificance,  in  their  estimation,  in  comparison  with 
a  gun  —  any  kind  of  gun  that  would  go  off  with  a 
bang. 

A  number  of  fine,  fat  steers  were  rounded  up  as 
provision  for  the  army.  Everything  being  in  readi- 
ness, the  eventful  day  was  awaited  with  impatience. 
Every  morning  surmises  would  be  offered  that  "  Mi 
Senor  "  will  arrive  to-day.  Scouts  went  out  daily 
to  meet  the  advancing  column,  only  to  return  at 
evening,  dusty  and  disappointed. 

At  last,  on  a  bright  forenoon,  with  the  trade-wind 
gently  rustling  the  long  grass  of  the  llano,  a  strange 
horseman  came  galloping  up  to  the  ranch,  swinging 
his  sombrero  and  calling  on  the  followers  of  Don 
Ramon  to  mount. 

With  a  wild  hurrah  the  men  sprang  into  their 
saddles,  the  corral  was  opened  and  the  cattle  turned 
out.  Now  the  head  of  the  advancing  patriot  army 
appeared,  with  Don  Ramon  leading,  mounted  on 
his  veteran  war-horse,  "  Bolivar,"  a  magnificent 
coal-black  charger,  which  was  his  inseparable  com- 
panion, and  as  uncompromising  a  rebel  as  himself. 
Don  Ramon's  immediate  retinue  consisted  of  the 
friends  who  had  contributed  men  and  animals,  as 
well  as  their  own  services,  to  his  cause.  As  they 
were  still  in  their  own  country,  they  had  no  advance 
guard.  Immediately  following  the  general  and  his 
staff  came  fifteen  hundred  llaneros,  riding  in  "  open 


1 68  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

order,"  or  rather  regardless  of  any  order  at  all. 
They  were  driving  a  large  herd  of  cattle  and  spare 
horses.  Don  Ramon  ordered  the  Santa  Barbara 
contingent  to  fall  in  at  once,  as  he  desired  to  get 
part  of  the  cattle  across  the  river  before  night,  if 
possible. 

The  new  recruits  were  greeted  enthusiastically  by 
the  main  body.  Aguardiente  was  served,  and  amid 
much  boisterous  patriotism  success  to  the  adventure 
and  confusion  to  the  enemy  were  drunk.  The  cattle 
joined  the  herd,  and  Tom  found  himself  surrounded 
by  the  wildest  and  most  motley  throng  it  had  ever 
been  his  fortune  to  meet.  They  were  bold  and  fear- 
less as  eagles  ;  careless  and  simple  as  children ;  and 
their  devotion  to  their  leaders  was  fervid  and  un- 
questioning. With  such  backing,  what  might  not  an 
unscrupulous  politician  accomplish  ?  The  cattle  bel- 
lowed in  protest.  The  bulls  pawed  the  turf  in 
accompaniment  to  their  rumblings,  and  raised  such 
a  cloud  of  dust  that  breathing  became  difficult. 
Some  of  them  were  continually  breaking  away  and 
making  a  dash  for  liberty.  Then  would  ensue  a  wild 
scurrying  on  the  part  of  the  vaqueros  to  bring  the 
truants  back. 

Sometimes  it  would  be  necessary  to  lasso  the 
leader;  then,  while  one  dragged,  another  followed 
prodding  with  a  garrocha,  until,  alternately  hanging 
back  and  rushing  ahead,  he  would  be  returned,  snort- 


THE  DEADLY   PASS   OF   CARACAS  169 

ing  and  shaking  his  shaggy  head  angrily,  to  the  herd. 
The  llaneros  kept  up  a  continual  singsong  to  amuse 
and  quiet  the  cattle ;  they  told  them  in  improvised 
doggerel  that  they  were  the  pick  of  the  flock,  and 
should  consider  themselves  highly  honored  in  having 
been  chosen  to  feed  the  patriot  army  of  "  Nuestro 
Senor,  Don  Ramon." 

Two  hours  before  sundown  they  reached  the  river. 
Here  they  had  quite  a  contract  on  their  hands. 
Many  of  the  cattle  and  horses  had  never  seen  the 
river  before,  and  those  who  had,  protested  against  the 
passage ;  but  the  vaqueros  knew  how  to  handle 
them.  Half  a  dozen  men  driving  a  squad  of  madri- 
neros  —  tame  oxen  —  rode  into  the  river,  beating  the 
water  and  shouting  to  drive  away  the  crocodiles. 
The  others,  seeing  it  could  be  done,  submitted  under 
the  impulse  of  abundant  prodding,  shouting,  and  tail- 
twisting.  The  vaqueros  swam  their  horses  on  either 
side,  encouraged  and  helped  them,  and  finally  got  the 
entire  herd  across  before  sundown.  Half  a  dozen 
beeves,  two  horses,  and  one  man  were  lost  at  the 
ford,  and  Tom  had  a  toe  bitten  off  by  caribes ;  for, 
like  the  rest,  he  was  barefoot,  having  learned  to  ride 
vaquero  fashion,  with  only  the  big  toe  in  the  stirrup. 

They  went  into  camp  on  a  convenient  mata.  This 
military  operation  consisted  simply  in  killing  beef 
enough  for  supper  and  searing  it  at  open  fires.  They 
had  neither  tents  nor  hammocks.  After  supper  sen- 


170  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

tries  were  posted  to  watch  the  cattle ;  aguardiente 
was  served,  and  the  first  night  on  the  trail  of  "  El 
maldito  traidor,  Don  Jorge,"  was  passed  in  singing, 
dancing,  and  bragging  until  near  morning.  Then 
these  doughty  warriors,  wrapped  in  their  ponchos, 
dreamed  of  the  glory  they  were  to  win  on  many  well- 
fought  fields. 

Tom  and  Santiago  were  detailed  for  sentry  duty  in 
the  first  watch.  As  the  cattle  were  feeding,  they 
were  kept  pretty  busy  galloping  after  stragglers ;  but 
there  was  plenty  of  help.  The  sentries  had  received 
their  share  of  aguardiente,  and,  as  the  Santa  Barbara 
crowd  had  not  been  all  day  in  the  saddle,  they  rather 
had  the  best  of  it ;  for  the  others  caroused  until  re- 
lieving time,  and  were  then  obliged  to  stand  watch 
the  rest  of  the  night.  The  army  was  up,  had  break- 
fast, and  was  gone,  before  daylight.  Early  hours 
prevail  on  the  llanos,  as  the  middle  of  the  day 
being  too  hot  to  work  is  devoted  to  sleep.  It  was 
impossible  to  march  fast  on  account  of  the  cattle. 
The  way  was  rough,  there  were  creeks  and  rivers  to 
ford,  bogs  to  wade  through,  and  long  stretches  of 
stony  ground  that  made  travelling  difficult  and  slow. 
With  such  a  lively  company,  however,  the  time 
passed  pleasantly.  The  most  difficult  part  of  the 
journey  was  the  crossing  of  the  great  swamp  of 
Camaguan.  It  was  absolutely  necessary  to  cross  in 
one  day,  as  there  was  no  possibility  of  encamping  in 


THE   DEADLY   PASS   OF  CARACAS  1 71 

the  swamp.  A  twelve-hour  halt  was  made  to  give 
the  animals  a  good  rest,  and  then  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning  they  started. 

It  was  a  trying  ordeal.  The  cattle  were  continu- 
ally becoming  mired,  requiring  to  be  pulled  out  by 
the  men  and  horses,  who  were  but  little  better  off 
themselves.  There  was  no  lying  over  in  the  middle 
of  the  day  here.  Many  animals  had  to  be  abandoned, 
many  more  strayed  away,  and  no  one  could  be  spared 
to  go  after  them  ;  so  that,  when  the  army  at  last 
struggled  out  of  this  slough  of  despond  at  eleven 
o'clock  at  night,  they  would  have  become  an  easy 
prey  to  the  enemy.  Men  and  horses  were  jaded, 
and  the  cattle  could  have  been  herded  by  a  three- 
year-old  boy.  As  they  were  too  tired  to  feed,  another 
day  was  lost  here.  On  the  morning  of  the  second 
day,  bright  and  early,  camp  was  broken,  and  a  start 
made  for  Calabozo,  where  it  was  known  that  the 
firearms  were  stored. 

At  the  "  Mision  de  Abajo,"  by  order  of  Don  Ra- 
mon, a  brief  halt  was  made  while  all  hands  cleaned 
up  for  their  entrance  into  the  city.  A  guard  was 
left  to  watch  the  cattle,  while  the  rest  were  formed 
in  procession,  four  abreast,  and  admonished  to  retain 
the  formation.  Before  reaching  the  city,  a  deputa- 
tion was  met  who  had  come  to  escort  General  Ra- 
mon and  h'is  retainers  to  the  public  square.  Here  the 
llaneros  were  given  a  reception  fit  for  a  conquering 


172  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

army.  Calabozo  did  itself  credit.  Don  Ramon 
and  his  centaurs  were  hailed  as  patriots,  deliverers, 
and  what  not;  aguardiente  flowed  in  rivers;  and  the 
bright  smiles  and  sparkling  eyes  of  the  lovely  Cala- 
bozanas  fired  every  patriotic  heart.  The  llaneros 
were  in  clover  :  nothing  was  good  enough  for  them  ; 
now  they  knew,  if  they  never  had  known  before, 
what  a  fine  lot  of  fellows  they  were. 

General  Ramon,  fearing  the  enervating  effects  of 
so  much  coddling,  marched  them  off,  with  many 
backward  glances  of  vain  regret,  and  camped  them 
on  a  beautiful  meadow  on  the  Guarico.  Here  they 
remained  for  two  days,  holding  open  levee  and  en- 
tertaining the  crowds  who  came  out  from  the  city 
to  admire  and  praise.  Tom  was  so  well  pleased  at 
once  more  beholding  clean  streets  and  blocks  of 
houses,  that  he  felt  severely  the  privation  of  being 
so  soon  driven  forth  again ;  but  he  was  too  enthusi- 
astic a  partisan,  and  too  much  a  lover  of  discipline, 
to  complain.  On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  they 
were  marched  to  church  —  an  unprecedented  event, 
with  most  of  them  —  to  partake  in  the  celebration 
of  mass.  From  church  they  returned  to  the  great 
plaza,  and  were  presented  with  their  arms  by  Don 
Enrique  Robledo,  the  Governor  of  the  province. 
Don  Enrique  made  them  a  speech,  which  fired 
their  patriotism  still  more,  and  then  the  guns  and 
ammunition  were  distributed.  There  were  long 


THE   DEADLY   PASS   OF   CARACAS  1/3 

Kentucky  rifles,  United  States  army  muskets, 
double-barrelled  shot-guns,  highly  prized,  and  a 
few  blunderbusses  and  old  Queen  Anne  flint- 
locks. In  addition  to  these  there  were  some  three 
hundred  brass-mounted  horse-pistols,  and  a  few  — 
very  few — Colt's  revolvers.  The  ammunition  was 
as  varied  as  the  guns.  There  were  bags  of  bird 
shot,  buck-shot,  rifle  bullets,  musket  balls,  and  a  lot 
of  sheet  lead  and  old  lead  pipe  for  the  home  man- 
ufacture of  slugs. 

The  ammunition,  like  the  guns,  was  distributed 
promiscuously ;  the  result  being  that  a  man  armed 
with  a  squirrel  gun  would  receive  a  bag  of  Daniel 
Boone  bullets,  a  quarter  or  half  an  inch  larger  than 
the  bore  of  his  weapon.  Another  fellow  with  a 
blunderbuss,  that  would  hold  paving  stones,  had 
nothing  to  put  in  it  but  a  lot  of  bird  shot.  Such 
little  drawbacks  as  misfit  ammunition,  however, 
could  not  dampen  the  ardor  of  the  patriots.  So 
long  as  it  was  lead,  they  would  get  along.  A  little 
judicious  pounding  on  a  wayside  rock  would  reduce 
an  overgrown  bullet  to  the  desired  gauge.  As  it 
might  not  be  convenient  at  all  times  —  say  in  the 
heat  of  battle  —  to  manufacture  ammunition,  the 
vaqueros,  who  were  men  of  many  resources, 
pounded  out  their  slugs  beforehand.  If  the  fel- 
low with  the  blunderbuss  and  bird  shot  could  not 
knock  an  angle  off  a  granite  fort,  he  could  throw 


1/4  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

dust  in  the  eyes  of  a  good  many  traitors  at  a  single 
discharge,  and  make  as  much  noise  as  the  next 
one,  which  after  all  was  the  main  thing.  So  they 
took  their  miscellaneous  arms,  and  were  proud  and 
happy. 

Tom,  with  commendable  faith  in  Uncle  Sam, 
chose  a  United  States  musket,  and  traded  ammu- 
nition until  he  got  some  that  fairly  fitted.  By  his 
advice  Santiago  did  the  same ;  so  between  them 
they  made  quite  a  powerful  battery. 

During  this  important  proceeding,  the  distribu- 
tion of  arms,  they  were  the  centre  of  an  admiring 
circle  of  the  wealth  and  beauty  of  Calabozo.  They 
were  admired,  ogled,  and  flattered,  and  when  all 
had  been  supplied,  the  good  priest,  Padre  Antonio, 
blessed  their  weapons.  Then,  indeed,  they  knew 
themselves  to  be  invincible.  Amid  waving  ban- 
ners, a  rattling  discharge  of  small  arms,  and  the 
huzzas  of  the  multitude,  they  marched  forth  —  a 
gallant  band  of  heroes  —  to  battle  for  what  they  con- 
sidered right.  No  man  can  do  more.  They  picked  up 
their  cattle  and  turned  their  faces  resolutely  toward 
Caracas  —  the  home  of  the  arch  traitor,  Don  Jorge. 

During  the  next  week,  they  picked  up  many 
recruits  —  both  men  and  animals.  As  they  were 
now  approaching  the  enemy's  country,  Don  Ramon 
halted  for  three  days  and  drilled  them.  The  va- 
queros  did  not  take  kindly  to  military  manoeuvres; 


THE   DEADLY   PASS   OF  CARACAS  175 

they  saw  no  sense  in  it.  They  preferred  to  whoop 
and  yell,  gallop  about  and  fire  off  their  guns.  But 
the  old  general  was  a  strict  disciplinarian,  and  the 
only  man  they  feared.  They  were  his  "  children," 
his  "sons,"  his  "llaneros";  but  for  disobedience 
of  orders  he  would  have  them  shot  —  therefore  they 
loved  him. 

At  the  end  of  three  days  they  could  tumble  into 
some  kind  of  order,  perform  a  few  simple  evolu- 
tions, and  hold  their  fire  until  told  to  let  it  go. 

On  resuming  the  line  of  march,  two  hundred 
picked  men  rode  a  mile  ahead  to  beat  up  the 
enemy.  Tom  Benton  and  Santiago  Nunez  were 
members  of  this  advance  guard.  The  remainder 
were  divided  in  two  squads,  which  marched  on 
either  side  of  the  cattle,  enclosing  them  in  a  living 
corral,  as  it  would  be  too  heavy  marching  on  the 
ground  the  cattle  had  trodden.  A  small  party  was 
detailed  as  whippers-in  to  bring  up  the  rear.  The 
fellows  to  leeward  needed  to  be  thoroughly  seasoned 
vaqueros ;  for  none  but  a  thoroughbred  could  stand 
ttye  dust,  odor,  and  flies  which  fell  to  their  lot. 

The  llanos  were  now  behind  them,  and  they  had 
arrived  in  a  country  where  opinions  differed.  The 
inhabitants  no  longer  flocked  to  the  rebel  stand- 
ard as  they  had  done.  The  cattle  suffered  from 
the  novelty  of  hill  climbing ;  therefore  their  prog- 
ress was  slower  than  ever.  News  of  their  arrival 


176  TOM  BENTON'S  LUCK 

now  travelled  ahead  of  them,  and  five  days  after 
leaving  their  training  quarters,  the  advance  had 
a  brush  with  a  squad  of  national  cavalry. 

When  the  vaqueros  saw  the  cavalry,  they 
charged,  yelling  and  firing  their  guns.  By  the 
time  they  were  in  range,  their  guns  were  empty ; 
but  undaunted,  they  continued  to  charge  with 
garrochas  and  machetes.  The  cavalry  fired  a  vol- 
ley at  close  range,  emptied  half  a  dozen  saddles, 
wheeled  and  took  the  back  track.  The  vaqueros, 
who  were  better  horsemen  and  better  mounted, 
overtook  and  killed  a  score  of  them.  It  was  no 
part  of  their  plan  to  take  prisoners.  Extinction 
was  the  motto  in  these  wars.  An  injured  cavalry- 
man was  dragged  to  the  presence  of  General  Ramon, 
who  questioned  him  concerning  the  movements  of 
the  enemy.  He  answered  with  curses  and  revilings, 
and  was  cut  down. 

It  was  learned  that  Don  Jorge  was  fortified  within 
the  city  and  had  no  intention  of  coming  out  to  give 
battle.  This  information  was  false.  The  cavalry 
scouts,  whom  they  were  continually  meeting,  kept 
Don  Jorge  posted  in  regard  to  their  movements. 
Don  Ramon  threw  out  scouts  ahead  of  the  advance 
guard.  These  reported  only  small  bodies  of  the 
enemy  in  sight,  and,  as  they  were  continually  driven 
back,  the  vaqueros  became  greatly  elated,  believ- 
ing they  were  going  to  have  it  all  their  own  way. 


THE  DEADLY  PASS   OF  CARACAS  177 

One  day,  at  sundown,  they  reached  a  small  land- 
locked valley  within  five  miles  of  Caracas.  Don 
Ramon  went  into  camp  here,  intending  to  leave  his 
cattle  and  take  the  city  by  storm  early  next  morning. 
Sentinels  were  posted  at  the  various  passes  and  on 
the  summits  of  the  surrounding  hills,  while  the  men 
were  ordered  to  be  ready  for  instant  service. 

Don  Jorge's  scouts  had  kept  track  of  these  pro- 
ceedings, and  every  rebel  sentinel  was  covered  by 
a  couple  of  government  soldiers  with  orders  to  quiet 
him,  at  the  setting  of  the  moon.  So  well  were  these 
orders  fulfilled  that,  for  an  entire  hour,  the  rebel 
camp  slept  unguarded. 

A  single  rocket  rose  hissing  in  the  clear  night  air, 
and  simultaneously  a  deadly  volley  was  poured  into 
the  sleeping  camp  from  all  sides.  Not  an  enemy 
was  to  be  seen.  Amid  the  cries  and  groans  of  the 
wounded,  the  vaqueros  sprang  to  arms.  "  We  have 
been  betrayed ! "  was  heard  above  the  general  din, 
as  they  fired  a  futile  volley  in  all  directions.  General 
Ramon  was  everywhere.  He  was  in  his  element; 
this  was  war !  He  told  his  men  to  reserve  their  fire 
until  they  could  learn  the  position  of  the  enemy,  and 
ordered  them  to  take  shelter  behind  the  cattle ;  but 
the  cattle  were  stampeded  and  were  rushing  madly 
about  the  close  valley,  seeking  an  outlet.  They 
trampled  the  wounded,  and  wounded  others.  As  the 
fire  came  from  all  sides,  there  was  no  shelter ;  and  as 


TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

the  vaqueros  were  unable  to  reload  their  unfamiliar 
weapons  in  the  darkness  and  confusion,  many  threw 
them  away. 

With  the  ready  decision  of  a  veteran,  Don  Ramon 
called  on  his  men  to  follow  him  to  Caracas.  Nobly 
they  responded :  with,  cheers  and  yells,  with  cries 
of  "A  Caracas!  A  Caracas,  muchachos !"  they  fol- 
lowed their  gallant  leader  in  a  charge  on  the  pass 
leading  to  the  city. 

Don  Jorge,  knowing  the  desperate  valor  of  the 
llaneros,  had  foreseen  that  such  would  probably  be 
their  course.  To  receive  them  he  stationed  a  corps 
of  sharpshooters,  picked  riflemen,  on  each  side  of 
the  narrow  pass,  hidden  behind  trees  and  rocks. 
The  llaneros  were  permitted  to  enter,  until  a  thou- 
sand men  were  in  the  trap.  A  single  word  rang  out 
sharply  on  the  night  air,  "Fuego!"  and  the  pass 
became  a  deadly  crater.  From  all  sides  blazed  forth 
a  murderous  crossfire.  With  many  others,  gallant 
old  General  Ramon  bit  the  dust.  He  died  as  he 
would  have  wished  —  with  the  music  of  battle  in  his 
ears  and  a  bullet  in  his  heart.  The  vaqueros,  armed 
only  with  garrochas  and  machetes,  their  highly  prized 
guns  thrown  away,  turned  with  yells  of  rage  and 
defiance  to  climb  the  perpendicular  walls  of  the  pass 
in  search  of  their  tormentors.  They  were  brained 
with  rifle  butts,  sabred,  bayoneted,  and  tumbled  back 
—  clutching  wildly  at  the  air  —  upon  their  fellows. 


THE   DEADLY   PASS  OF  CARACAS  179 

These,  undaunted  by  their  fate,  continued  to 
ascend.  The  remainder  of  the  government  troops 
descended  into  the  valley  from  all  sides,  keeping  up 
a  continuous  fusillade.  The  vaqueros,  unable  to 
reply  with  their  useless  guns,  followed,  true  to  their 
leader,  into  that  deadly  defile  —  the  Caracas  pass. 
The  stampeded  cattle,  driven  by  the  soldiers,  fol- 
lowed, trampling  the  wounded  and  charging  madly 
upon  the  others.  For  more  than  four  hours  the 
slaughter  continued.  The  sun  rose  and  poured  his 
blistering  rays  into  the  ditch,  piled  six  and  eight 
deep  with  the  dying  and  dead.  The  victors,  though 
wearied  with  monotonous  slaughter,  maintained  a 
desultory  fire,  and  a  moving  head  or  arm  among 
the  mass  attracted  attention  and  a  bullet. 

Where  was  Tom  Benton  all  this  time  ?  He  and 
Santiago  after  canvassing  the  prospects  of  the 
morrow,  and  deciding  that  the  government  troops, 
shut  up  in  the  city,  would  receive  a  very  unpleasant 
surprise  in  the  morning,  lay  down  and  slept  soundly. 
Tom's  last  thoughts  were  a  hazy  wondering  as  to 
why  he  was  here,  mixed  up  in  the  wars  of  a  people 
in  whose  concerns  he  had  no  interest.  Then  he  fell 
asleep,  to  be  aroused  by  the  initial  volley  fired  upon 
the  sleeping  camp.  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  dazed 
by  this  new  experience. 

Santiago  still  slept.  Tom,  like  the  others,  had 
discharged  his  piece.  He  stooped  to  shake  his 


l8o  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

friend ;  but  he  saw  by  the  dim  starlight  that  it 
was  useless.  The  top  of  Santiago's  head  was 
shot  off,  and  he  had  not  heard  the  volley  that  killed 
him.  Filled  with  horror  and  rage,  at  what  seemed 
like  a  cowardly  murder,  Tom  sprang  eagerly  after 
Don  Ramon,  who  was  calling  his  "  children,"  his 
"  sons,"  to  follow  him,  reloading  as  he  ran.  He 
tipped  the  powder  horn  into  the  muzzle  of  his  gun, 
and  a  handful  of  grass,  gathered  as  he  ran,  wadded 
it  home.  There  were  five  fingers  in  her  without 
the  ball.  A  bullet  and  four  buck-shot  and  she  was 
loaded  for  bear.  He  saw  Don  Ramon  throw  up 
his  hands  and  fall  over  backward.  Somebody  hit 
him  on  the  shoulder,  leaving  a  sensation  as  though 
he  had  been  branded.  He  was  a  partisan  before  ; 
now  he  was  an  avenger.  By  the  glare  of  the  dis- 
charge he  saw  above  a  rock  a  head  wearing  a  gov- 
ernment uniform  cap.  He  raised  his  gun;  his 
left  arm  was  dead,  yet  it  did  its  duty  and  supported 
the  barrel  of  his  piece.  There  came  another 
volley,  and  again  he  saw  the  head.  The  black 
eyes  were  looking  straight  into  his  —  along  a  shin- 
ing rifle  barrel.  Tom  fired.  His  overloaded  gun 
kicked  like  a  mule,  nearly  dislocating  his  shoulder 
and  throwing  him  down.  As  he  fell,  he  saw  the 
soldier's  rifle  drop,  his  cap  fly  off,  and  the  upper 
half  of  his  head  disappear,  as  though  it  had  never 
been.  Santiago  was  avenged  ! 


THE  DEADLY   PASS  OF  CARACAS  l8l 

Tom  scrambled  to  his  feet.  The  boys  were 
charging  up  the  bank.  He  seized  a  lance  from  the 
hand  of  a  dead  vaquero  and  he  too  rushed  up  the 
bank  after  them.  The  comrade  of  the  soldier  whom 
Tom  killed  had  fired  at  him,  and,  seeing  him  fall, 
supposed  his  shot  had  taken  effect.  He  was  there- 
fore surprised  to  see  Tom  climbing  up  the  bank, 
lance  in  hand.  He  had  no  time  to  reload.  Tom 
did  not  see  him.  The  soldier  reversed  his  piece 
and  brought  the  butt  down  on  Tom's  bare  head. 
It  was  a  blow  to  brain  an  ox,  but  a  loose  stone 
rolling  under  Tom's  foot  saved  him  from  the  full 
force  of  it.  He  saw  a  blaze  of  light,  as  if  the  sun 
had  fallen  at  his  feet,  and  tumbled  over  into  the 
shambles.  Other  bodies  fell  on  him  and  he  was 
partly  buried. 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE  HORRORS  OF  CARACAS  PASS — WATER  —  SIR  JOHN 

-  A     HAPPY     MEETING  — •  MORE     TROUBLE  THE 

CALABOOSE  —  THE  COURT-MARTIAL  —  "TO  BE  SHOT 
AT  SUNRISE"  —A  WILD  CRY  FOR  HELP 

BY  ten  o'clock  the  rebel  forces  were  annihilated, 
and  the  victors  desired  to  return  to  town  and  receive 
the  ovation  that  was  their  due.  A  detail  was  sent 
to  round  up  the  cattle  and  drive  them  in,  and  an 
attempt  was  made  to  drive  them  through  the  pass, 
but  the  decent  brutes  refused  to  desecrate  the  last 
resting-place  of  heroes. 

The  sudden  cessation  of  the  noise  tended  to 
restore  Tom  Benton  to  his  senses.  While  still  in 
a  dreamy,  half-conscious  state,  he  was  rudely  awak- 
ened by  a  sharp  gripping  at  his  scalp  and  the  settling 
of  a  heavy  weight  upon  his  head.  He  opened  his 
eyes  to  see  a  vulture  in  the  very  act  of  pecking 
them  out.  He  tried  to  cry  out,  but  his  tongue  and 
the  roof  of  his  mouth  were  as  dry  as  a  powder- 
house.  A  sign  of  life,  however,  was  sufficient  to 
frighten  off  the  filthy  bird,  which  languidly  hopped 
a  yard  away  and  resumed  its  horrid  feast.  As  Tom 

182 


TO   BE  SHOT  AT  SUNRISE  183 

glanced  down  the  pass,  the  sight  sickened  him. 
Carrion  crows,  vultures,  buzzards,  and  millions  of 
flies  swarmed  and  gorged  themselves  on  what,  but 
a  few  hours  before,  had  been  a  magnificent  body  of 
brave  men. 

Tom  was  pinned  down  by  a  ghastly  load  of 
rapidly  decaying  human  bodies.  If  the  birds  de- 
serted him,  not  so  the  flies,  for  they  remained  on 
his  face,  and  in  his  mouth  and  nostrils.  He  was 
lame,  sore,  and  benumbed ;  but  by  sheer  strength 
of  will  he  wriggled  himself  out.  There  was  a  bullet- 
hole  in  his  left  shoulder,  his  right  was  bruised  and 
lame  from  the  recoil  of  his  gun,  and  his  head  ached 
and  buzzed  dizzily.  His  scalp  was  torn,  and  his 
body  and  legs  were  bruised  by  the  impact  of  the 
bodies  that  had  fallen  on  him.  The  sun  blazed 
fiercely  down  in  the  pass,  and  he  was  so  faint  from 
hunger,  thirst,  and  loss  of  blood  that  he  could 
hardly  drag  his  battered  body  about.  He  must 
get  out  of  there.  He  must  find  water  or  die.  The 
thought  that  there  might  be  others  yet  alive  in 
that  fearful  Golgotha  restrained  him  from  immedi- 
ate flight ;  for  he  was  not  one  to  desert  a  shipmate 
in  distress. 

As  he  stumbled  weakly  about  over  the  heap  of 
slain,  the  carrion  birds  barely  hopped  out  of  his 
way.  He  tried  to  identify  some  of  the  dead,  but 
the  tropical  sun  had  already  done  its  work.  He 


1 84  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

also  failed  to  find  any  who  needed  his  assistance. 
He  had  not  inspected  a  quarter  of  the  pass ;  but 
his  feeble  body  refused  to  obey  his  will.  He  must 
now  look  out  for  himself,  so  he  crawled  off,  half 
delirious,  into  the  bush  in  search  of  water.  How 
long  he  staggered  about  through  the  thick  under- 
brush, he  never  knew.  At  length  he  stumbled  upon 
a  clear,  cool  spring,  the  first  and  finest  he  had  seen 
since  leaving  the  "  Mision  de  Abajo."  Down  he 
went,  on  all  fours,  in  his  haste  falling  in  and  nearly 
drowning  himself.  He  soiled  the  water  sadly,  but 
what  of  that  ?  He  drank,  and  drank,  until  he  was 
nearly  bursting ;  yet  his  thirst  was  not  quenched. 
He  tore  up  his  rags  and  washed  and  soaked  his 
wounds,  finding  the  cool  water  extremely  grateful 
to  the  fevered  flesh.  Then  he  drank  again  —  more 
yet.  He  drank  until  the  pure,  sweet  water  tasted 
bitter,  and  still  his  mouth  was  dry.  He  wetted  a 
piece  of  his  shirt  and  laid  it  on  his  sore  head,  and 
placed  another  upon  his  wounded  shoulder.  It  fell 
off,  and  it  was  a  trouble  to  hold  it  there ;  yet  it 
felt  so  good !  He  sat  down  and  leaned  against  a 
tree,  placing  the  wet  rag  between  it  and  his  shoulder. 
Ah,  that  was  fine !  There  was  a  breath  of  air, 
which,  evaporating  the  water  from  his  scanty  rags, 
conveyed  a  sense  of  luxurious  coolness.  The  myriad 
voices  of  the  forest  soothed  him,  and  he  slept. 
Regardless  of  wild  animals,  reptiles,  insects,  or 


TO   BE   SHOT  AT   SUNRISE  185 

stragglers  from  the  enemy,  Tom  Benton,  the  sole 
survivor  of  Ramon's  rebellion,  slept. 

Sir  John  Laidlaw  was  one  of  those  adventurous 
Englishmen  who,  not  content  to  live  quietly  at  home 
shooting  over  their  well-kept  preserves  and  attend- 
ing to  the  multifarious  duties  which,  as  English 
gentlemen,  devolve  upon  them,  go  gallivanting  all 
over  the  world  clad  in  inconvenient  costumes,  and 
impressing  their  obtrusive  British  individuality  on 
all  with  whom  they  come  in  contact. 

Sir  John  had  been  two  years  "doing"  South 
America.  Having  ascended  the  mighty  Amazon 
and  crossed  the  Andes,  he  had  tramped  to  the 
southern  part  of  Chile,  recrossed  the  Andes,  and 
was  now  working  his  way  from  Montevideo  north- 
ward. Being  possessed  —  as  all  Britons  appear  to 
be  —  of  unlimited  means,  he  had  money  and  sup- 
plies waiting  for  him  at  all  the  principal  cities  on 
his  route.  Consequently  he  presented  the  strange 
sight  of  a  thoroughly  equipped  sportsman  in  the 
dense  wilderness  of  a  South  American  forest  —  with 
dogs,  guns,  camp  equipage,  and  help  galore.  Al- 
though his  habit  of  allowing  nobody  to  precede 
him  frequently  got  him  into  tight  places,  with  true 
British  obstinacy  he  persisted  in  it.  It  was  due  to 
this  habit  that,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  massacre 
in  the  Caracas  pass,  he  suddenly  planted  his  heavily 
shod  foot  on  Tom  Benton's  sore  leg. 


1 86  TOM  BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  Ouch  ! "  roared  Tom,  on  being  so  rudely  awak- 
ened. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  What  have  we  here  ?  "  asked 
Sir  John,  recoiling  in  surprise. 

Tom,  looking  like  a  ragged  spirit  of  the  woods 
in  hard  luck,  and  much  surprised  at  the  welcome 
sound  of  his  mother  tongue,  scrambled  clumsily  to 
his  feet,  and  stared  at  the  gentleman  rudely. 

"  Say  that  again,  mister,  please,"  he  cried;  "I  ain't 
heard  a  word  of  English  for  so  long,  I'd  almost 
forgot  there  was  such  a  language." 

''You're  an  Englishman!"  exclaimed  Sir  John, 
holding  out  his  hand  with  an  air  of  frank  pleasure. 

"Not  exactly,"  replied  Tom,  grasping  the  prof- 
fered hand,  and  wringing  it  heartily;  "but  I'm  just 
as  good,  I  guess.  I'm  an  American  !  " 

"  Every  bit,  my  lad,  every  bit !  But  what  brings 
you  out  here  in  the  bush  all  alone  ?  Why,  you're 
hurt!  "  he  added  in  a  tone  of  concern,  as  he  caught 
sight  of  a  patch  of  blood  on  Tom's  neck. 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,"  replied  Tom;  "it's  only  a 
scratch.  I'd  take  as  many  more  gladly  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  meeting  with  a  civilized  person  once  more." 

By  this  time  Sir  John's  retinue,  consisting  of  half 
a  dozen  men,  came  up.  He  ordered  them  to  pitch 
his  tent  at  once  near  the  spring.  In  a  remarkably 
short  time  they  cleared  a  space  with  their  machetes, 
and  set  up  a  roomy  tent.  A  fire  crackled,  and  the 


TO   BE  SHOT  AT  SUNRISE  l8/ 

welcome  smell  of  boiling  coffee  greeted  the  noses  of 
the  hungry  men.  Sir  John  produced  a  medicine- 
chest,  and  dressed  the  wound  in  Tom's  shoulder, 
which  proved  to  be  merely  a  crease.  Then  he 
clipped  the  hair  from  the  cut  in  his  head,  washed 
it  carefully,  and  sewed  it  up  with  silk,  their  tongues 
running  constantly  all  the  time. 

Sir  John  knew  nothing  of  the  rebellion  in  which 
Tom  had  taken  part.  He  had  been  in  "the  bush," 
as  he  called  it.  "  It's  strange,"  said  he,  "that  these 
South  American  republics  can't  keep  order.  I  see 
no  other  way  but  that  England  will  have  to  step 
in  and  take  charge  of  things.  It's  a  shame,  the  way 
they  neglect  their  natural  opportunities.  They've 
got  some  of  the  most  magnificent  country  on  the 
globe,  and  they  let  it  lie  waste.  Can  you  tell  me 
how  far  we  are  from  La  Guayra  ?  " 

"  No,  I  haven't  the  least  idea.  I  did  hear  last* 
night  that  we  were  within  five  miles  of  Caracas," 
replied  Tom. 

"  Oh,  then  it's  not  far.  Caracas  is  only  ten  or 
fifteen  miles  from  La  Guayra,  and  I'll  not  be  sorry 
to  get  there.  I've  been  two  years  in  the  country; 
and  while  I  must  say  I've  enjoyed  every  minute  of 
it,  I  wish  to  go  home.  Are  you  going  to  stay  in 
the  country,  my  lad  ?  " 

"  No,  sirree ;  I  am  not !  I  want  to  get  away  to 
sea  again.  I'm  only  wasting  my  time  here." 


1 88  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  By  the  way,  I  haven't  asked  your  name.  I  am 
Sir  John  Laidlaw,  of  Laidlaw  Manor,  Kent." 

"  My  name  is  Thomas  Benton ;  I  belong  in  Port- 
land, Maine."  They  shook  hands  again,  and  each 
expressed  his  pleasure  at  making  the  acquaintance 
of  the  other. 

"Then,  as  you  do  not  intend  to  remain  in  the 
country,  if  you  have  no  other  plans,  I  should  be 
pleased  if  you  would  accompany  me  as  far  as  La 
Guayra,  at  least.  We  shall  be  company  for  each 
other,  and  I  am  sick  and  tired  of  these  natives.  I 
shall  stop  a  couple  of  days  at  Caracas,  or  perhaps 
only  one,  and  then  go  on  to  the  coast." 

"  I  should  like  to  first-rate,  Sir  John,  but  you  see 
how  I  am  fixed.  I  have  only  what  I  stand  in,  and 
that's  about  ready  to  drop  off.  Besides,  I  hardly 
think  it  would  be  safe  for  me  to  go  to  Caracas;  I'm 
a  rebel,  you  know,"  added  Tom,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right !  I  have  plenty  for  two,  or 
for  half  a  dozen,  for  that  matter,  and  can  get  more 
at  La  Guayra ;  so,  if  you'll  come,  I  shall  be  more 
than  pleased,  and  as  for  any  one  bothering  you  in 
Caracas,  I'd  like  to  see  them  try  it  while  you're 
with  me.  I'd  have  an  English  regiment  quartered 
on  the  town  inside  of  ten  days." 

Tom  thanked  Sir  John  heartily  for  his  kindness, 
which  he  admitted  he  never  expected  to  be  able  to 
repay,  and,  like  a  sensible  fellow,  accepted  the 


TO   BE   SHOT  AT   SUNRISE  189 

good    things    which     the     gods     had     thoughtfully 
provided. 

Next  morning  they  rose  bright  and  early.  Tom 
rigged  himself  like  a  regulation  Englishman  from 
Sir  John's  kit,  and,  after  a  hearty  breakfast,  they 
proceeded  to  Caracas.  Sir  John  wished  to  have 
a  look  at  the  pass  where  the  rebels  had  been  am- 
bushed the  day  before ;  but  as  they  were  to  leeward 
of  it,  they  found  it  impossible  to  approach  it  nearer 
than  half  a  mile. 

Before  nine  o'clock  they  stood  looking  down  into 
the  beautiful  valley  of  Chacao.  The  handsome  little 
city  of  Caracas  nestled  in  the  level  bottom,  and 
surrounded  by  rugged  mountains  looked  as  much 
out  of  place  as  though  it  had  been  transported  from 
some  distant  country  by  one  of  the  magicians  of  old. 
Nearly  opposite  from  where  they  were  standing, 
those  two  grand  peaks  — "  Naiguata"  and  "  Cerro  de 
Avila,"  forming  the  "Silla"  or  Saddle  of  Caracas- — 
towered  aloft  like  sentinels.  As  they  approached 
the  city,  their  attention  was  attracted  by  many  ruins, 
still  standing,  and  piles  of  debris  —  sad  reminders 
of  the  great  earthquake  of  1812,  when  twelve  thou- 
sand of  the  inhabitants  were  buried  under  their 
ruined  city.  "Why,"  Tom  wondered,  "did  they 
rebuild  on  such  a  fatal  site  ?" 

When  they  entered,  they  found  the  streets  full 
of  soldiers  and  intensely  patriotic  citizens,  who  were 


I QO  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

making  the  air  ring  with  vivas  for  Don  Jorge 
and  all  manner  of  anathemas  for  the  accursed  rebels, 
which  went  against  Tom's  grain.  The  entrance 
of  Sir  John  and  his  party  created  quite  a  little  stir. 
A  half-drunken,  gold-laced  officer  swaggered  up  to 
them,  and,  assuming  an  air  of  extreme  ferocity, 
shouted  as  a  challenge  :  "Viva  la  Republica!  Mueran 
los  perros  traidores  !  " 

His  manner  was  so  insolent  that  it  roused  Sir 
John's  ire.  The  swarthy  little  desperado  stood 
squarely  in  front  of  them,  blocking  their  way.  Sir 
John  seized  him  by  the  neck  and  thrust  him  to  one 
side,  saying,  "  Come,  Johnny,  get  out  o'  the  way !  " 
in  English. 

Like  a  flash  the  officer  whipped  out  his  sword,  and, 
ripping  out  a  string  of  vile  epithets,  sprang  at  them. 
At  the  very  first  onset  Sir  John's  valiant  retainers 
took  to  their  heels,  leaving  him  and  Tom  to  take 
care  of  themselves.  Fortunately,  they  each  had 
guns.  A  crowd  of  cursing,  raving  fanatics  quickly 
collected.  Sir  John  and  Tom  backed  slowly  into 
a  corner,  and,  with  their  backs  to  the  wall,  kept  their 
assailants  at  bay.  No  one  resorted  to  gunpowder, 
so  it  became  a  case  of  club  swinging  as  opposed  to 
sword  play. 

The  officer,  reenforced  by  a  couple  of  his  comrades, 
pressed  them  hotly,  while  the  crowd  cheered.  Sir 
John,  although  he  spoke  the  language  fluently,  jibed 


TO   BE   SHOT  AT   SUNRISE  191 

at  them  in  English.  He  called  them  "  Garlic-eating 
monkeys,"  and  assured  them  that,  when  through 
amusing  himself,  he  would  wipe  them  off  the  face 
of  the  earth,  and  make  their  nigger  government 
pay  him  for  his  trouble.  In  spite  of  his  boast- 
ing, however,  their  position  was  becoming  momen- 
tarily more  unpleasant,  for  they  could  hardly  ward  off 
the  lightning-like  blows  of  their  wiry  and  tireless 
assailants. 

"When  I  say  'Go,'  charge  the  beggars,  Tom!" 
said  Sir  John,  without  taking  his  eyes  off  them  or 
relaxing  his  efforts  for  an  instant. 

"All  right,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  "whenever  you 
say  the  word ;  though  I  should  like  to  lay  out  this 
red-nosed  one." 

"  Never  mind  the  red-nosed  one,  lad ;  we've  got 
to  get  out  of  here ;  they  keep  coming  thicker  and 
faster." 

The  next  moment,  with  a  great  clattering  of  hoofs, 
a  squad  of  mounted  men  came  galloping  round  the 
corner,  and  charged  directly  into  the  crowd,  scatter- 
ing it  in  all  directions.  Their  leader  demanded  to 
know  what  the  fuss  was  about ;  but  before  Sir  John 
could  reply,  the  little  scamp  who  was  the  cause 
of  it  all  stepped  boldly  to  the  front,  and,  address- 
ing the  officer  as  "General,"  informed  him  that 
these  two  rebel  spies  had  entered  the  city  in  broad 
daylight  and  cheered  for  Don  Ramon. 


I Q2  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

The  absurdity  of  the  charge  forced  Sir  John  to 
laugh,  angry  as  he  was.  His  levity  ruffled  the 
dignity  of  the  "  General,"  who  gave  the  order  to 
his  followers,  "  Al  Calabozo  !  "  Our  two  friends 
were  seized  forthwith,  their  hands  were  tied  behind 
them,  and  they  were  thrown  across  a  couple  of 
troopers'  horses.  The  squad  proceeded  at  a  trot 
to  the  other  end  of  the  city,  where  the  prisoners 
were  thrown  into  the  calaboose  —  a  square,  stone 
building  containing  but  one  room,  utterly  destitute 
of  furniture,  with  the  ground  for  its  floor,  and  one 
small,  heavily  barred  window  ten  feet  above  it. 
The  rawhide  thongs  with  which  their  wrists  were 
bound,  cut  and  chafed  their  flesh  painfully.  They 
had  both  received  slight  wounds  during  the  fracas, 
and  were  dying  of  thirst.  Sir  John  stamped  up 
and  down  the  dirt  floor  and  raved. 

"  Oh,  but  you'll  pay  dearly  for  this  outrage!"  he 
cried.  "  I'll  bankrupt  your  confounded  banana  plan- 
tation for  you !  Wait  till  I  get  out  of  here !  I'd  give 
every  penny  I  own  for  half  an  hour  of  the  Gordon 
Highlanders  or  the  Enniskillen  Rifles !  This  will 
be  an  expensive  job  for  you,  Don  Jorge!"  Thus 
he  ran  on  until,  wearied  out,  he  sat  down  on  the 
ground  and  gritted  his  teeth  in  impotent  rage. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  they  will  do  with  us,  Sir 
John?" 

"  I    know    very    well    what    they'll    do    with    us. 


TO   BE   SHOT  AT   SUNRISE  193 

They'll  release  us,  salute  the  British  flag,  and  pay 
a  thundering  big  indemnity.  That's  what  they'll 
do.  I  am  sorry  to  have  got  you  into  this  trouble, 
Tom ;  but  I'll  see  you  through  it,  my  lad,  and  you 
shall  not  lose  anything  by  it,  either." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Sir  John;  I'm  very  much 
obliged  to  you.  If  you  had  not  found  me  and 
taken  me  in  tow,  I  should  probably  have  been 
killed  out  there  in  the  woods  before  this :  either  by 
a  jaguar,  or  a  party  of  their  scouts  hunting  strag- 
glers. I  don't  mind  this.  I  only  wish  they  would 
take  off  these  bracelets  and  give  us  some  water;  my 
mouth  is  as  dry  as  Julius  Caesar's  powder  horn." 

"  Have  you  a  knife,  Tom  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"I  have,  but  it's  in  my  jacket  pocket;  if  I  could 
get  at  it,  I'd  soon  have  these  darbies  off." 

"Couldn't  I  get  it  out  of  your  pocket?" 

"  May  be ;  it's  in  the  right-hand  pocket.  See 
if  you  can  reach  it." 

Tom  backed  alongside,  and  after  considerable 
fumbling  managed  to  reach  the  knife,  which  was 
a  clasp  one,  with  a  very  stiff  spring.  Their  hands 
were  partially  benumbed  by  the  thongs,  so  it  took 
half  an  hour  or  more  to  get  it  open.  After  that, 
they  quickly  cut  each  other  loose  and  rubbed  a 
little  life  into  their  hands  and  arms.  A  rapid  in- 
spection of  the  jail  convinced  them  that  it  was 


IQ4  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

built  to  keep  people  in,  as  the  window  was  heavily 
barred,  while  the  door  was  a  massive  iron  grating 
opening  into  a  dark  passage,  and  the  walls  were 
heavy  blocks  of  hewn  granite  set  in  cement.  Sir 
John  said  that  if  he  could  get  word  to  the  British 
Minister,  that  door  would  come  open  mighty  lively. 
"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Tom,  "or  if  I  could  reach  the 
American  Minister,  either." 

Sir  John  gave  him  a  rapid  glance,  then,  looking 
away  again,  said  :  — 

"  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  say  anything  about 
America,  Tom.  It  isn't  a  pleasant  thing  to  say ;  but 
during  my  two  years  in  South  America  I  have  had 
considerable  business  with  consuls  and  ministers, 
and  I  have  met  a  good  many  English  and  Ameri- 
cans. The  result  of  my  observations  is  that,  while 
the  Queen  always  protects  her  subjects,  Uncle  Sam 
sometimes  lets  his  whistle.  I  have  known  a  number 
of  cases  where  American  citizens  have  been  com- 
pelled to  apply  to  the  British  Consul  for  protection, 
and  have  got  it,  after  having  been  denied  by  their 
own.  You  leave  this  to  me.  I'll  appeal  to  the  British 
Minister  on  behalf  of  both  of  us,  and  we'll  be  taken 
care  of." 

This  was  a  bitter  pill  for  Tom  Benton,  a  patriotic 
young  American,  to  swallow,  but  he  knew  it  was  true. 
It  was  a  tradition  among  seamen,  so  he  acknowledged 
the  corn,  and  thanked  Sir  John  for  this  additional 


TO   BE  SHOT  AT  SUNRISE  195 

favor  Toward  evening  the  doors  were  flung  open 
with  much  unnecessary  noise,  and  a  negro  entered 
bearing  two  calabashes.  Through  the  open  door 
they  saw  two  soldiers.  Sir  John  demanded  to  be 
taken  before  the  British  Minister.  The  soldiers 
cursed  him  and  turned  away.  One  of  the  calabashes 
contained  about  a  quart  of  tepid  water,  the  other  a 
filthy  looking  mess  of  boiled  black  beans.  After  a 
miserable,  sleepless  night,  passed  in  rolling  about  on 
the  hard  dirt  floor  and  scratching,  they  received  a 
breakfast  which  was  the  counterpart  of  their  supper. 

About  ten  o'clock  the  doors  were  again  thrown 
open  and  they  were  marched,  at  the  head  of  a  hoot- 
ing, jeering  mob,  to  the  military  headquarters,  where 
they  were  shoved  into  a  small  hot  room  and  locked 
up  for  four  hours  more.  Again  their  door  was 
slammed  open,  and  four  soldiers,  armed  with  rifles 
and  bayonets,  entered.  They  ranged  themselves  on 
each  side  of  and  behind  the  prisoners,  and  escorted 
them  through  a  narrow  corridor,  an  open  courtyard, 
and  another  corridor  to  a  large  hall.  Here  half  a  dozen 
gold-laced  officers  were  sitting  as  a  court-martial. 

Among  the  crowd  that  lined  the  wall,  they  recog- 
nized the  little  devil  who  had  caused  them  all  this 
trouble,  and  three  of  Sir  John's  servants.  The  court 
was  called  to  order  immediately  on  the  arrival  of  the 
prisoners,  by  a  pompous  old  villain  in  a  fiercely 
cocked  hat.  He  laid  his  sword  with  a  great  flourish 


196  TOM  BENTON'S   LUCK 

and  clatter  on  the  table,  and  called  in  stentorian 
tones,  as  though  he  was  drilling  an  awkward  squad, 
"Attencion!"  Profound  silence  ensued.  After 
waiting  a  sufficient  time  to  allow  the  sense  of  his 
importance  to  soak  into  the  minds  of  the  audience, 
he  stated  that  it  was  a  fact  well  known  to  the  court 
that  the  prisoners,  with  many  other  foreigners,  had 
taken  part  in  the  recent  rebellion  of  Don  Ramon,  and 
had  fought  in  the  battle  of  the  pass.  The  prisoners 
(he  added)  were  captured  the  day  before  with  arms 
in  their  hands  and  in  open  hostility.  What  had  they 
to  say  why  sentence  of  death  should  not  be  passed 
upon  them  for  their  treasonable  and  seditious  act  ? 

Sir  John  replied  that,  on  behalf  of  himself  and 
companion,  he  denied  the  charge,  and  also  the  ju- 
risdiction of  the  court.  As  British  subjects,  they 
demanded  to  see  her  Majesty's  representative.  Ignor- 
ing this  demand,  the  judge  called  Sir  John's  three 
servants,  cautioned  them  in  regard  to  their  testimony, 
and  asked  the  fellow  who  had  been  the  steward  of 
the  expedition  if  he  knew  the  prisoners. 

"  I  do,  senor.     I  know  them  well." 

' 'Who  are  they?" 

"Two  Englishmen,  senor." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  them  ?  " 

"  I  was  at  work  on  the  tobacco  plantation  of  my 
patron,  Don  Hernandez  Acevedo,  when  I  heard  the 
firing.  I  started  to  see  if  I  could  be  of  any  assist- 


TO   BE   SHOT  AT    SUNRISE  197 

ance  to  the  army  of  the  republic  and  came  upon 
these  two,  skulking  in  the  woods.  The  younger  one 
was  wounded  in  the  head.  The  other  was  dressing 
his  wound.  They  stopped  me  and  said  they  would 
impress  me  into  the  patriot  army,  as  they  called 
it—  "  Oh,  you  infernal  liar!"  cried  Tom,  as  he 
sprang  upon  the  scoundrel  and  seized  him  by  the 
throat.  Sir  John  leaped  to  his  side,  and  threw  the 
villain  and  jumped  on  him  before  the  guards  dragged 
them  away.  The  soldiers  attempted  to  beat  them 
with  their  belts,  which  they  slipped  off  for  the  pur- 
pose. Both  Sir  John  and  Tom  were  sturdy  expo- 
nents of  the  noble  art  of  self-defence,  and  the 
Venezuelan  soldiers  were  slim,  light-waist.ed  little 
fellows,  so  they  went  down  before  the  good  Anglo- 
Saxon  fists  like  ninepins. 

"  Set  'em  up  in  the  other  alley,  Tom ! "  shouted 
Sir  John,  as  he  gleefully  sent  them  to  grass  in 
windrows. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  "  as  soon  as  I  get  my 
pile  finished."  Three  soldiers  were  piled  on  top 
of  the  lying  witness.  A  half  dozen  had  appeared 
from  somewhere,  and  were  keeping  our  two  friends 
from  becoming  mildewed.  The  group  of  hangers- 
on  yelled,  and  the  judge  pounded  on  the  table  for 
order.  Sir  John  and  Tom  each  seized  a  gun,  and, 
as  they  wielded  them  like  flails,  the  soldiers  — 
keeping  well  together  —  backed  toward  the  door. 


198  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Our  friends  were  so  busy  amusing  the  soldiers  that 
they  were  unaware  of  a  movement  going  on  behind 
them.  The  judge  mustered  his  party  of  officers 
and  charged  on  their  rear. 

They  were  seized  from  behind  and  thrown  on 
their  backs  on  the  stone  floor.  The  soldiers  now 
fell  upon  them  and  beat  and  kicked  them  unmerci- 
fully, and  having  taken  the  fight  out  of  them,  again 
tied  their  hands  behind  their  backs.  This  little 
diversion  having  subsided,  the  court  proceeded  with 
the  trial.  It  was  soon  seen  that  all  the  witnesses, 
except  the  original  complainant,  had  cleared  out 
during  the  melee.  However,  a  scarcity  of  witnesses 
could  not  interfere  with  the  progress  of  the  wheels 
of  justice.  The  little  viper  was  sworn,  and  said  that 
while  taking  his  regular  morning  walk  he  had  come 
upon  the  defendants  at  the  head  of  a  small  party  of 
rebels.  They  were  scouting  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
city.  They  attempted  to  capture  him ;  but  though 
outnumbered  ten  to  one,  he  cornered  these  two  and 
detained  them  until  the  arrival  of  the  police. 

During  the  recital  of  this  fairy  tale  both  Sir  John 
and  Tom  continually  interrupted  with,  "  Liar,  brag- 
gart, coward,"  etc.,  being  rewarded  for  each  of 
these  epithets  by  a  blow  in  the  mouth  from  the  fists 
of  their  guards.  Their  lips  and  noses  were  swollen 
and  bleeding;  but  their  pluck  was  undaunted. 
When  the  scoundrel  completed  his  testimony,  the 


TO   BE   SHOT  AT   SUNRISE  199 

court  complimented  him  on  his  valor  in  capturing, 
single  handed,  two  such  desperate  hereticos. 

The  evidence  being  all  in,  the  court  lighted  cig- 
arettes, consulted  a  few  moments,  and  took  a  viva 
voce  ballot,  with  the  natural  result — conviction.  The 
presiding  officer  carefully  adjusted  his  cocked  hat  to 
the  angle  of  supreme  dignity,  assumed  a  solemn  de- 
meanor, hemmed  portentously  and  said  :  — 

"  The  court  finds  the  prisoners  guilty  as  charged. 
Have  you  anything  to  say  why  sentence  should  not 
be  passed  upon  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  !  "  replied  Sir  John  ;  "  but  I  would  not 
waste  my  breath  saying  it  to  such  a  gang  of  sheep- 
stealers  — 

"  Silence,  dog ! ! !  The  sentence  of  the  court  is 
that  you  be  taken  to  the  rear  of  the  barracks  at 
sunrise,  to-morrow  morning,  and  there,  with  your 
faces  to  the  wall,  be  shot  to  death.  To  the  cala- 
boose with  'em  !  " 

Realizing  the  gravity  of  their  situation,  and  their 
impotence,  they  were  stunned.  They  followed  their 
guards  passively,  but  their  spirits  recovered  rapidly 
when  they  emerged  from  the  gloomy  "  Palace  of 
Justice "  into  the  bright  sunlight  of  a  perfect  day. 
To  render  conversation  impossible,  Sir  John  was  led 
ten  paces  in  advance ;  but  his  fertile  brain  was  busy 
thinking  out  a  way  of  salvation.  To  be  shot  at 
sunrise  !  Once  inside  the  calaboose  all  hope  would 


200  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

be  gone.  Whatever  was  to  be  done,  must  be  done 
before  they  arrived  there ;  for  escape  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  If  he  could  only  get  word  to  the  British 
Minister,  he  would  be  saved.  Ay,  but  there  was  the 
rub.  No  native  would  carry  such  a  message,  they 
were  too  anxious  for  the  execution  of  the  hated 
Gringos.  Desperate  cases  require  desperate  reme- 
dies. Cupidity  might  induce  some  among  the  crowd, 
who  were  jeering  at  the  "Ingleses,"  to  take  a  message. 
They  were  nearly  there ;  he  could  see  the  corner 
of  the  dingy  calaboose  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd. 
There  was  no  more  time  to  think.  Once  inside  that 
door,  they  would  be  to  all  intents  and  purposes  dead. 

Having  come  peacefully  thus  far,  the  guards  had 
slightly  relaxed  their  vigilance,  when  suddenly,  in 
carefully  selected  Spanish,  Sir  John  shouted  at  the 
top  of  his  voice  :  — 

"  I  am  an  English  gentleman,  to  be  shot  at  sun- 
rise !  One  thousand  pounds  to  the  person  who  tells 
the  British  Minister !  " 

That  was  as  concise  as  he  could  think  it,  and  it 
was  none  too  concise  either ;  for  the  last  word  left 
his  lips  in  a  muffled  gurgle,  as  the  alarmed  guards 
throttled  and  threw  him  down.  While  one  sat  on 
his  breast,  strangling  him  with  both  hands,  another 
tore  the  manta  from  a  woman's  head  and  gagged 
him ;  while  Tom's  guard,  taking  their  cue  from  their 
fellows,  performed  the  same  kindly  office  for  him, 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A    RARE    SUMMER    HOLIDAY JAMAICA  —  TRINIDAD  — 

LAGUAYRA THE  CACAO  PLANTATION  —  MR.  ARTHUR 

LINDSAY LIFE    IN    CARACAS  — A     YACHT    CRUISE  — 

A    CRY    FOR    HELP A    RIDE    FOR   A    LIFE 

ONCE  on  board  the  Albatross,  Mr.  Druse,  by  his 
suave  and  genial  manner,  put  his  guests  completely 
at  their  ease,  making  them  feel  that  they  were  con- 
ferring rather  than  receiving  a  favor  by  accepting 
his  invitation. 

Mrs.  Druse,  an  invalid  of  the  languid  type, 
greeted  them  affably,  and  the  son,  a  bright  lad  of 
seventeen,  seconded  his  father's  welcome  with  frank 
heartiness.  This  boy,  Robert,  who  was  expected 
to  succeed  his  father  in  business,  travelled  with  him 
continually.  He  was  a  fine,  manly,  handsome  young 
fellow,  who  believed  his  father  to  be  the  greatest 
man  in  the  world,  and  was  ambitious  to  equal  him. 
He  had  relinquished  a  college  course  to  acquire 
the  broader  and  more  complete  education  gained 
by  mingling  with  men.  He  was  perfectly  demo- 
cratic in  manner,  and  did  not  despise  girls,  not 
even  his  own  sister  nor  her  chum,  though  neither 
of  them  was  ravishingly  beautiful. 


202  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

The  mate,  Mr.  Swinburne,  —  a  geordie  tar,  —  made 
the  young  people  a  set  of  grummets,  with  which 
they  pitched  quoits  on  deck.  They  had  a  swing, 
played  chess  and  checkers,  sang  and  danced  in  the 
moonlight,  and  listened  to  the  wonderful  tales  told 
by  the  negro  cook  of  hair-raising  adventures  at  sea, 
and  worse  ones  yet  of  West  Indian  Hoodoo  and  Obe. 
They  romped  from  one  end  of  the  old  barkey  to  the 
other,  and  enjoyed  themselves  famously;  while  their 
elders  read  novels  or  smoked,  according  to  their 
several  tastes.  The  weather,  with  the  exception  of 
the  first  week,  was  uniformly  fine,  the  vessel  was 
provisioned  sumptuously,  and  all  went  smoothly. 

Although  Mr.  Druse  had  chartered  the  Albatross 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  his  daughter  an  outing, 
his  business  training  would  not  allow  him  to  waste 
an  opportunity,  so  he  had  her  loaded  with  merchan- 
dise, which  he  purposed  to  sell  or  trade,  and  return 
with  a  cargo  of  the  valuable  products  of  the  tropics. 
In  pursuance  with  this  idea  he  put  in  at  Kingston, 
Jamaica,  where  he  had  many  friends,  and  remained 
there  nearly  two  weeks,  visiting  army,  navy,  and 
government  officials.  The  party  made  numerous 
excursions  to  the  interior,  where  they  were  enter- 
tained by  the  families  of  wealthy  planters,  who  were 
proud  to  do  honor  to  their  distinguished  countryman 
and  his  friends,  and  the  little  state  of  Maine  girl 
danced  with  aristocratic,  gold-laced  English  officers, 


A   RIDE   FOR   A   LIFE  2O3 

who  unanimously  voted  her  "  awfully  jolly,"  laughed 
heartily  at  the  queer  antics  of  the  black  pickaninnies, 
ate  strange  and  luscious  fruit,  and  enjoyed  herself 
every  minute. 

Reluctantly,  they  left  the  hospitable  island,  and 
returning  through  the  Windward  passage,  coasted 
all  the  way  round  the  Windward  group.  Here, 
wafted  gently  along  by  the  balmy  trade-wind,  —  a 
breeze  that  never  knows  a  squall, —  they  watched 
a  glorious  panorama.  Daily,  almost  hourly,  those 
beautiful  emerald  gems,  set  in  the  sparkling  blue 
Caribbean  Sea,  rose  from  the  horizon  one  after 
another,  and  passed  in  stately  review,  each  seeming 
to  excel  in  beauty  those  which  had  preceded  it.  Oh, 
what  a  summer  outing  that  was  !  It  was  an  episode 
from  which  all  others  should  hereafter  date  —  to  be 
remembered  and  gloried  in  while  life  should  last. 

They  dropped  anchor  for  a  day  and  a  night  in 
Port  au  Spain,  Trinidad.  Here  they  saw  represent- 
atives of  nearly  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  admired 
the  rich  tropical  vegetation,  and  sampled  more  fruit, 
and  then  sailed  round  the  island  to  "  La  Brea,"  the 
lake  of  natural  pitch.  The  girls  did  not  admire  this 
particularly,  but  Mr.  Druse  prophetically  foresaw  the 
great  commercial  possibilities  which  have  since  been 
developed.  On  leaving  here  they  shaped  their 
course  directly  for  La  Guayra — La  Guayra  the  hot! 
They  thought  they  would  surely  roast  before  the 


204  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

mules  were  ready  to  take  them  up  the  mountain  out 
of  that  frying-pan.  The  girls  cast  rueful  glances  at 
their  dainty  feminine  gear,  which  had  been  so  bravely 
starched,  and  was  so  rapidly  becoming  limp,  while 
Robert  put  his  collar  in  his  pocket,  fanned  himself  with 
his  hat,  and  wondered  how  in  the  world  they  stood  it. 
At  last  the  mules  were  ready,  and,  with  much 
giggling  and  frantic  clutching  at  starched  skirts, 
they  got  under  way.  When  they  were  fairly  started, 
the  heat  lost  its  oppressiveness,  and  as  they  travelled 
the  old  road  up  the  nearly  perpendicular  face  of 
La  Silla,  it  seemed  as  if  the  air  grew  cooler  and  the 
view  finer  at  every  step.  The  grand  old  mountain 
rose  abruptly  from  the  sea  which  glistened  in  the 
sun  like  a  great  silver  plate,  three  thousand  feet 
below.  The  passage  of  the  dilapidated  old  draw- 
bridge at  the  "  Salto  "  was  a  nerve-testing  feat  for 
the  girls.  Nellie  knew  she  should  fall  and  be  killed, 
but  Kitty  laughed  at  her  fears,  while  Robert  rode  at 
her  side  holding  her  on  and  encouraging  her,  and 
Mr.  Druse  concentrated  his  wife's  attention  on  the 
old  tower,  "  Torre  quemada,"  until  the  flimsy  struct- 
ure was  passed.  The  beauties  of  the  tropical  plants 
and  flowers  called  forth  continued  exclamations  of 
delight  from  the  girls,  and  kept  Robert  busy  supply- 
ing specimens.  They  dined  at  La  Venta,  passing 
a  very  pleasant  hour  in  the  perfect  climate  which 
prevails  at  that  altitude. 


A   RIDE   FOR   A   LIFE  205 

From  here,  until  the  end  of  their  journey,  there 
was  no  end  to  the  natural  beauties  of  this  wonderland; 
every  turn  in  the  road  disclosing  new  and  beautiful 
views,  strange  birds  or  animals,  and  combinations 
of  color  and  perfume  in  the  wild  flowers  that  almost 
wearied  the  senses. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  when,  tired  and  travel- 
stained  but  happy,  they  arrived  at  the  plantation. 
Tired  as  they  were,  they  could  not  deny  themselves 
the  pleasure  of  inspecting  this,  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  orchards.  The  cacao  trees,  with  their  large 
glossy  leaves,  laden  with  the  rich  chocolate-colored, 
cucumber-shaped  pods,  looked  cool  and  inviting 
under  the  shade  of  the  great  erythrinas,  whose  heads 
blazed  with  fiery  blossoms  as  though  they  had 
gathered  the  sun's  heat  all  to  themselves,  that  their 
delicate  charges  might  thrive  in  the  cool  moist  air 
below. 

While  Kitty  Blake  was  enjoying  herself  with  a 
merry  party  at  the  cacao  plantation  of  "  La  Assun- 
cion,"  Tom  Benton  was  driving  cattle  and  scouting 
with  the  enemy's  cavalry  but  a  few  miles  away,  en 
route  to  the  deadly  pass  outside  Caracas.  In  this 
land  of  prolific  natural  wealth,  however,  the  railroad 
and  telegraph  were  almost  unknown,  and  people  knew 
only  what  they  saw. 

After  a  week's  rest,  Mr.  Druse  proposed  a  call  on 
the  English  Minister.  So  on  a  bright  pleasant  morn- 


206  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

ing  the  entire  party,  accompanied  by  half  a  dozen 
servants,  cantered  gayly  through  the  mountains  to 
Caracas. 

Mr.  Arthur  Lindsay,  the  minister,  was  a  man  of 
fifty,  who  had  passed  his  whole  life  in  her  Majesty's 
diplomatic  service.  As  he  had  arrived  at  no  higher 
position  than  minister  to  a  small  South  American 
republic,  it  is  to  be  inferred  that  he  was  not  consid- 
ered a  diplomat  of  high  order.  The  fact  was,  that 
he  had  friends  in  the  right  quarter ;  otherwise  he 
would  have  been  relegated  to  the  scrap  pile  long  ago, 
for  he  was  more  of  a  man  than  a  diplomat.  Was  a 
fellow-Briton  suffering  injustice,  Mr.  Lindsay  would 
insist  that  the  wrong  be  righted,  regardless  of  the 
effect  on  the  concert  of  Europe.  Although  he  had 
never  made  any  very  serious  breaks,  it  was  considered 
advisable  to  send  him  to  a  country  whose  demands 
for  an  apology  might  be  considered  with  sufficient 
deliberation  to  allow  them  to  die  a  natural  death. 

Being  a  gentleman  of  ample  means,  freehanded 
and  jovial,  he  was  well  and  favorably  known  to 
visitors  at  his  rather  out-of-the-way  post.  He  was  an 
ardent  sportsman ;  and  as  his  whole  life  had  been 
passed  in  courts  and  offices,  he  had  learned,  from  the 
few  glimpses  which  he  obtained  of  it,  to  love  the  sea  as 
few  landsmen  do.  Therefore,  when  he  found  himself 
in  a  post  so  near  it,  and  received  a  broad  hint  that  he 
would  not  be  disturbed  for  years,  he  had  a  handsome 


A   RIDE   FOR  A   LIFE  2O? 

schooner  yacht  built  in  England  and  sent  out  to  him. 
He  became  expert  in  handling  the  Flora,  and  passed 
much  of  his  time  cruising  up  and  down  the  coast, 
exploring  every  island,  creek,  and  bay.  He  also  de- 
lighted to  surround  himself  with  congenial  company; 
but,  with  a  few  exceptions,  he  did  not  care  for  the 
society  of  the  native  Venezuelans,  so  he  pressed  into 
service  such  strangers  as  came  his  way.  He  had 
purchased  two  large  adjoining  houses  in  the  aristo- 
cratic quarter,  and  had  thrown  them  into  one ;  and  it 
was  safe  to  say  that  when  Mr.  Lindsay  had  no  Euro- 
pean guests,  there  were  none  to  be  had. 

He  had  not  intruded  on  the  Druse  family  party  ; 
but  he  sent  them  his  compliments  and  expressed  the 
hope  that  they  would  honor  him  with  a  visit  before 
returning.  He  was  therefore  delighted  when,  after 
a  brisk  morning  ride,  the  merry  group  clattered  up 
to  his  door ;  and  as  the  mountain  air  had  sharpened 
their  appetites,  they  did  full  justice  to  the  luncheon 
served  in  the  park-like  garden. 

Frank  Lindsay,  nephew  and  adopted  son  of  the 
minister,  a  young  man  of  twenty,  formed  a  valuable 
addition  to  the  party  of  young  people.  He  piloted 
them  on  their  riding  excursions,  and  pointed  out  the 
various  objects  of  interest  while  the  elders  reclined 
in  the  cool  garden.  Kitty,  the  fearless,  enjoyed 
galloping  about  the  lovely  valley,  as  she  enjoyed 
boat  sailing  or  any  other  healthy  exercise.  Robert 


208  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

and  Nellie,  too,  found  romping  about  in  the  exhila- 
rating atmosphere  of  the  high  altitude  most  enjoyable. 
Mr.  Druse  had  much  of  interest  concerning  the  re- 
sources of  the  country  to  talk  about  with  Mr.  Lind- 
say, while  Mr.  Hayward  was  an  interested  listener, 
and  the  elderly  ladies  declared  that  merely  to  exist  in 
such  a  climate,  and  amid  such  surroundings,  was 
blissful. 

Two  days  before  the  battle  in  the  pass,  Mr.  Lind- 
say proposed  that  his  guests  should  join  him  in  a 
yacht  cruise  to  Lake  Maracaibo,  promising  them 
an  enjoyable  time.  He  had  a  friend  on  the  lake, 
who,  he  assured  them,  would  be  delighted  to  see 
them,  and  would  entertain  them  royally.  They 
accepted  of  course ;  and  a  messenger  was  dispatched 
to  La  Guayra  to  notify  the  captain  of  the  Flora  that 
the  party  would  be  on  board  at  sunrise,  in  order  to 
avoid,  as  far  as  possible,  the  torrid  heat  of  the  port. 

Just  before  they  were  ready  to  start,  Kitty  was 
seized  with  a  slight  illness  from  over-exposure  to  the 
sun.  Mrs.  Hayward  became  alarmed  at  once,  and 
decided  that  she  must  remain  at  home.  Mr.  Lind- 
say assured  her  that  it  was  nothing,  and  that  she 
would  recover  much  sooner  on  the  yacht  than  if 
left  behind ;  but  Kitty  refused  to  go,  much  as  she 
wished  it,  for  she  knew  Mrs.  Hayward  would  not 
enjoy  the  trip  under  the  circumstances.  He  then 
proposed  to  put  off  the  start  until  the  invalid  should 


A   RIDE   FOR   A   LIFE  209 

recover,  but  Mrs.  Hayward  in  her  turn  refused  to 
listen  to  a  postponement,  and  sent  them  off  while  she 
remained  to  nurse  her  darling.  Frank  elected  to 
stay  also,  to  entertain  the  invalid.  As  they  passed 
the  time  indoors  for  the  next  two  days,  they 
heard  nothing  of  the  murderous  battle  that  was 
fought  on  that  bloody  Monday  within  five  miles 
of  the  pleasant  garden  where  they  passed  the  time 
with  music,  reading,  and  games. 

On  the  day  when  Sir  John  and  Tom  received  their 
sentence,  Kitty  felt  so  much  better  that  she  expressed 
a  wish  for  a  ride.  Mrs.  Hayward  demurred,  as  old 
ladies  will,  but  finally  surrendered  to  coaxing,  only 
stipulating  that  she  and  Frank  should  not  be  away 
more  than  an  hour.  They  were  gone  more  than  two  ; 
for  Frank  forgot  his  watch,  and  the  time  flew  rapidly 
as,  with  merry  laughter,  they  challenged  each  other 
to  trials  of  speed  and  feats  of  horsemanship.  When 
quite  sure  they  had  been  out  their  full  hour,  they 
turned  their  horses'  heads  toward  home,  and  rode 
slowly,  to  breathe  their  tired  animals. 

Soon  after  entering  the  city,  and  turning  a  corner, 
they  came  upon  a  scene  of  great  turmoil.  There 
was  a  crowd  a  block  away,  toward  which  people  were 
running  from  all  directions. 

"  I  wonder  what  is  going  on  here  ?  "  said  Kitty  as, 
touching  her  horse  lightly  with  the  whip,  she  can- 
tered in  the  direction  of  the  excitement, 
p 


210  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

"  I  wouldn't  go  there,  Miss  Blake,"  said  Frank, 
spurring  up  alongside  of  her.  "  It's  probably  a 
street  row,  and  they  are  apt  to  be  rude  to  Europeans, 
especially  to  ladies." 

"I'm  not  a  European;  I'm  an  American,"  replied 
Kitty,  smiling  archly  in  the  troubled  face  of  her 
escort.  "  Hey  !  Get  out  of  the  way  and  let's  see 
what  is  going  on  here  !  "  she  added  to  the  crowd  of 
natives  under  her  horse's  nose.  They  were  now 
within  twenty  feet  of  where  Tom  was  plodding  along 
in  the  grip  of  his  two  guards,  and  could  see  his 
shoulders  and  the  wound  in  the  back  of  his  head. 
Ten  paces  ahead  of  him,  they  observed  another  little 
storm  centre. 

"  Oh,  come  away,  Miss  Blake,  do  !  "  urged  Frank. 
"  It's  only  a  couple  of  drunken  natives  being  taken 
to  the  calaboose." 

As  they  turned  their  horses'  heads,  there  came 
from  the  little  storm  centre  ahead  a  ringing  shout,— 
the  deep,  clear  tones  and  mispronounced  Spanish 
words  proving  the  owner's  assertion  that  he  was  an 
Englishman.  They  were  so  close  that  they  heard 
it  distinctly,  and  Frank  understood. 

"  /  am  an  English  gentleman,  to  be  shot  at  sunrise  ! 
One  thousand  pounds  to  the  person  who  tells  the  British 
Minister  !  " 

Frank  Lindsay  was  a  quick-witted  young  man, 
who  had  heard  stories  of  the  high-handed  proceed- 


A   RIDE   FOR  A   LIFE  211 

ings  of  these  hot-headed,  hardly  civilized  Spanish- 
Americans.  He  knew  they  would  commit  almost 
any  outrage  for  the  gratification  of  the  moment, 
apologizing  for  it  afterwards  if  compelled  to.  He 
understood  that  here  was  a  case  right  under  his 
nose,  and  he  knew  what  he  had  to  do.  He  must 
get  Mr.  Lindsay  there  before  sunrise  to-morrow, 
and  he  had  not  the  remotest  idea  where  he  was. 
Grasping  Kitty's  rein,  he  cried  :  — 

"  Come  on,  Miss  Blake ;  ride  for  dear  life !  " 
Kitty,  who  had  not  understood  a  word  of  Sir  John's 
statement,  was  greatly  frightened  by  Frank's  words 
and  manner.  She  dashed  wildly  after  him  for  a 
hundred  yards  or  so,  then,  seeing  they  were  not 
pursued,  she  reined  up. 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter?"  she  asked. 
"I  don't  see  any  occasion  for  such  terrible  haste." 

"Didn't  you  hear  what  he  said?"  asked  Frank, 
slackening  his  pace  for  a  moment.  "  Oh,  excuse 
me,  I  forgot  that  you  do  not  understand  Spanish. 
That  is  an  English  gentleman  whom  they  have  con- 
demned to  be  shot  at  sunrise  to-morrow  morning. 
I  must  find  Uncle  Arthur,  and  get  him  here  before 
that  time  to  save  him." 

"  And  I  have  delayed  you !  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry ! 
Come  on ! "  and  she  lashed  her  pet  saddle-horse 
unmercifully,  for  a  man's  life  was  at  stake.  Frank 
had  no  occasion  now  to  complain  of  want  of  speed. 


212  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Kitty  led  him  a  race  that  made  even  the  natives, 
born  horsemen,  look  after  them  in  surprise.  Mrs. 
Hayward,  who  had  been  on  the  anxious  seat  for 
the  last  hour,  had  her  nerves  entirely  wrecked  by 
a  clatter  of  hoofs  like  a  charge  of  cavalry.  Frank 
assisted  Kitty  to  alight.  A  servant  arrived,  to  whom 
he  rapidly  gave  his  orders,  and  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  to  write  it  he  was  on  his  way  to  La  Guayra 
on  a  fresh  horse,  followed  by  old  Enrique,  the  groom, 
leading  two  others. 

Kitty  told  Mrs.  Hayward  of  the  adventure,  where- 
upon that  old  lady  became  much  alarmed.  There 
was  not  a  soul  on  the  premises  with  whom  they 
could  now  converse,  and  after  nightfall  would-be 
winners  of  the  thousand  pounds  began  to  arrive, 
swaggering  by  the  house  and  watching  from  the 
corners  of  their  eyes  for  others  on  the  same  errand. 
Finding  the  coast  clear,  they  asked  to  see  "  El  Senor 
Inglese."  When  told  he  had  gone  on  an  indefinite 
cruise,  their  faces  would  drop ;  and,  on  gaining  an 
offing  from  the  house,  they  would  raise  their 
clinched  hands  to  high  heaven  and  curse  their  luck ; 
not  doubting  that  the  true  meaning  of  the  answer 
was  "too  late." 

As  the  night  advanced,  the  callers  became  more 
frequent,  and  the  majordomo  wondered  at  the  sud- 
den popularity  of  his  patron  with  the  native  ele- 
ment. Several  well-to-do  persons  came  on  the  same 


A   RIDE   FOR  A   LIFE  213 

errand  ;  he  offered  to  convey  their  messages  to  "  Mi 
Senor"  on  his  return,  but  his  kind  offer  was  invari- 
ably declined. 

Frank  had  been  thinking  rapidly  ever  since  he 
heard  Sir  John's  appeal,  trying  to  foresee  all  possi- 
ble emergencies,  and  prepare  for  them.  He  dashed 
down  the  La  Guayra  road  at  a  breakneck  pace,  fol- 
lowed by  old  Enrique,  audibly  cursing  such  harum- 
scarum  young  Ingleses,  and  wondering  if  they  would 
reach  the  bottom  of  the  almost  perpendicular  road 
alive. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

FRANK    PLANS   TO    INTERCEPT   THE    "FLORA" HE   HAS 

MANY    MISGIVINGS RUN    DOWN MR.  LINDSAY    AND 

ROBERT    TO     THE    RESCUE  —  A    WILD    RIDE     AGAINST 
TIME THE    YELLOW    CURS    DEFIED 

FRANK  was  acting  on  the  supposition  that  the 
Flora  was  now  homeward  bound ;  but  of  this  he  had 
no  assurance.  If  she  was,  and  he  could  get  his 
uncle  to  Caracas  before  the  Englishman  was  ex- 
ecuted, he  knew  Mr.  Lindsay  would  save  him  — 
otherwise  he  must  die.  He  reached  La  Guayra  at 
sundown  and  observed  that  the  wind  —  a  head  one 
for  the  yacht  —  was  quite  light.  At  Tarbell's  ship- 
chandlery  he  bought  two  lanterns  —  one  white  and 
one  red — and  a  box  of  matches.  He  had  the  lan- 
terns trimmed  and  lighted,  and  gave  them  to  Enrique. 
He  told  him  to  ride  west  along  the  coast  at  a  trot,  and 
to  hang  the  white  light  from  his  horse's  neck,  the 
red  one  from  the  neck  of  the  rear  led  horse,  so  that 
they  would  be  visible  from  the  sea,  and  be  sure  to 
keep  them  alight.  If  he  saw  the  Flora,  or  a  red  and 
green  light  hoisted  and  lowered  several  times,  he 
was  to  stop  and  wave  his  lantern  until  his  signal 

214 


A   RESCUE  215 

was  answered  by  a  red  light  swung  in  a  vertical 
circle,  and  then  remain  where  he  was  until  Mr.  Lind- 
say's arrival. 

If  he  saw  nothing,  he  was  to  continue  westward 
until,  by  the  dip  of  the  southern  cross,  he  knew  that 
it  was  after  midnight ;  then  he  could  return.  Frank 
promised  him  a  thousand  dollars  if  he  got  Mr.  Lind- 
say to  La  Guayra  before  two  o'clock,  and  five  hun- 
dred if  he  got  him  there  later.  Elated  with  the 
prospect  of  earning  such  unheard-of  wealth,  Enrique 
set  his  signals  and  started  at  once.  Frank  told 
Mr.  Tarbell  that  he  wanted  the  fastest  boat  there  was 
in  the  port,  and  one  smart  young  fellow  to  go  with 
him. 

"What's  the  matter  wi'  my  'lizajane?"  asked  the 
ex-skipper. 

"Is  she  fast?" 

"Fast?  Ay,  that  she  is,  the  devil  a  faster  this 
side  o'  Deal  beach." 

"  Let  me  have  her  then  as  quick  as  possible.  And 
get  a  good  man  and  send  him  out  on  Enrique's  trail 
in  half  an  hour  with  two  more  of  the  fastest  horses 
you  can  get.  Then  have  a  pair  of  fast  mules  here, 
and  another  at  La  Venta.  Instruct  the  men  in 
charge  of  all  these  animals  that  they  are  to  be  de- 
livered to  Uncle  Arthur  and  to  no  one  else.  Be  sure 
to  spare  no  expense  —  it's  a  case  of  life  and  death." 

"Gosh!    I    sh'd  think  'twas,"  remarked  the  ship- 


2l6  TOM    BENTON'S   LUCK 

chandler  as  he  gazed  after  Frank,  who  went  off  at  a 
dead  run  with  the  young  fellow  who  was  to  take  him 
out  in  the  Eliza  Jane. 

They  were  soon  afloat  in  the  clipper  sloop,  her 
huge  mainsail  swung  off  to  a  quartering  wind.  The 
white  spray  dashed  from  her  bow,  as  even  in  that 
light  breeze  she  skimmed  along  five  or  six  knots  an 
hour.  Frank  promised  his  skipper  five  hundred 
dollars  if  he  put  him  aboard  the  Flora  before  eleven 
o'clock.  The  man,  a  native  fisherman,  said  it  would 
be  difficult,  as  there  was  no  moon ;  but  he  would  try. 
Frank  was  worried  at  his  inability  to  see  Enrique's 
signals,  and  mentally  berated  the  old  rascal  for  hav- 
ing misunderstood  his  orders ;  but  on  rounding  a  low 
point,  he  saw  them.  Now  where  was  the  'Flora  ? 
Anchored  comfortably  in  front  of  Mr.  Larkin's  house 
on  the  lake,  as  likely  as  not.  He  hoped  not,  for 
then  all  his  efforts  would  go  for  nothing  and  the 
poor  English  gentleman  would  be  killed.  As  no 
time  limit  had  been  set  for  the  excursion,  it  was  only 
in  the  bare  hope  that  the  yacht  might  be  on  her  way 
home  that  he  had  started  to  intercept  her. 

How  his  uncle  would  save  the  Englishman,  he 
didn't  know ;  but  that  he  would  do  it  if  he  arrived  in 
time,  he  was  sure.  It  was  only  by  intercepting  her 
on  one  of  her  tacks,  that  they  could  see  her  at  all, 
even  supposing  her  to  be  on  the  way  —  about  one 
chance  in  a  thousand  or  less.  Should  they  cross  her 


A   RESCUE  217 

course  fifteen  minutes  too  soon  or  too  late,  they 
would  go  flying  down  the  wind  farther  from  her 
every  minute.  He  wished  now  that  he  had  left 
word  at  La  Guayra,  in  case  she  gave  them  the  slip 
and  arrived  during  his  absence.  The  thought  tor- 
mented him.  She  might  have  passed  them  and  be 
lying  at  anchor  there  now.  He  had  a  mind  to  re- 
turn and  see,  but  decided  not  to  go  as  yet. 

They  strained  their  eyes  and  fancied  they  saw 
schooner  yachts,  ships,  lights,  and  Lord  knows 
what,  every  few  minutes.  Enrique's  signals  were 
in  plain  sight  at  any  rate,  and  helped  to  keep  his 
spirits  up.  The  boat  drew  ahead  of  a  point  of 
land,  and  shut  them  off  at  last ;  then  there  was 
nothing  to  see.  The  breeze  strengthened  as  the 
night  advanced,  and  the  Eliza  Jane  fairly  flew, 
which  was  another  source  of  anxiety,  for  he  would 
be  very  likely  to  miss  her  in  the  dark.  He  pro- 
posed that  they  shorten  sail ;  but  the  fisherman  dis- 
approved. "  I  don't  think,"  he  said,  "  that  she  can 
have  beaten  up  this  far  yet." 

Frank  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "  Why  don't 
you  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  fisherman  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  replied 
in  that  irritating,  senseless  way  they  have,  "  Quien 
sabe."  A  second  later  he  cried,  "  Sail,  ho  !  " 

He  rushed  the  tiller  to  leeward,  Frank  rounded 
in  the  sheet,  and  they  came-to  alongside  an  old 


2l8  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Jamaica  brig  bound  for  La  Guayra,  whose  negro 
captain  had  fallen  to  leeward  of  his  port.  A  row 
of  woolly  heads  appeared  at  the  rail,  all  jabbering 
in  concert,  and  asking  how  far  it  was  to  La  Guayra. 
In  a  burst  of  ill-natured  disappointment,  Frank  re- 
plied, "Forty  miles."  He  struck  a  match  and  looked 
at  his  watch  —  ten  thirty-five.  They  sailed  on  in 
silence  for  another  hour  or  more.  Frank  was  for- 
ward, holding  on  to  the  forestay,  and  looking  va- 
cantly ahead,  having  about  decided  that  he  had 
come  on  a  fool's  errand. 

A  squall  was  brewing.  Large  black  clouds  ob- 
scured the  stars,  making  the  search  more  hopeless 
than  ever.  He  sought  Enrique's  signal  to  leeward 
before  he  remembered  that  they  must  have  passed 
the  horses  long  ago.  A  warning  cry  from  aft  caused 
him  to  turn  just  in  time  to  see  what  looked  in  the 
darkness  like  the  sharp  bow  of  a  great  ship.  It 
rose  on  the  sea  and  came  down  like  a  giant  axe. 
There  was  a  crashing  of  wood  as  the  Eliza  Jane 
was  cut  fairly  in  two,  amidships,  and  excited  shouts 
and  dancing  lights  on  board  the  larger  vessel,  and 
then  Frank  found  himself  overboard,  clutching  un- 
availingly  at  her  smooth  black  sides  as  she  glided  by. 

The  crew  of  the  Flora  —  for  it  was  she  who  had 
dealt  this  unkind  blow  —  threw  her  head  into  the 
wind,  and  lowered  a  boat  as  quickly  as  her  excitable 
native  crew  could  do  it.  As  they  had  cut  the  sloop 


A   RESCUE  219 

fairly  in  two,  Frank  and  his  skipper  were  on  different 
sides  of  her.  Frank  struck  out  instinctively,  but  he 
hardly  swam  a  dozen  strokes  when  he  collided  with 
a  hard  substance,  which  cut  his  head,  and  caused 
him  to  see  innumerable  stars.  Though  believing 
himself  badly  hurt,  he  retained  his  senses  by  a 
strong  exercise  of  will  power,  and,  knowing  it  must 
be  some  of  the  wreckage,  he  sought  to  mount  it. 
The  mainmast  remaining  in  the  forward  part  of  the 
sloop  had  capsized  it,  throwing  Frank  out.  He 
climbed  onto  the  short  bowsprit,  feeling  dizzy  and 
bewildered.  His  head  swam,  his  nerveless  fingers 
relaxed  their  hold,  and  he  went  off  backwards.  The 
jib,  which  had  a  boom  lashed  to  its  foot,  formed  a 
floating  hammock,  into  which  he  fell,  and  as  the 
water  washed  over  it  he  was  in  imminent  danger 
of  drowning. 

The  fisherman,  retaining  his  hold  on  the  tiller, 
was  not  knocked  overboard.  So,  as  soon  as  he  re- 
gained his  wits,  he  shouted  lustily  for  help,  with 
the  result  that  he  was  soon  rescued,  and  told  of  the 
young  Inglese  with  whom  he  was  in  search  of  the 
Flora.  The  boat's  crew  rowed  a  couple  of  times 
round  the  wreckage,  shouting  and  swinging  their 
lanterns,  and,  having  satisfied  themselves  there  was 
no  living  person  about,  they  started  to  return.  By 
good  luck  they  ran  into  the  mainsail  and  capsized, 
and,  before  they  got  clear  again,  one  of  the  men 


220  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

tumbled  into  the  jib  and  found  Frank's  apparently 
lifeless  body  washing  about  in  it.  They  returned 
as  quickly  as  possible,  hooked  their  boat  on,  and 
hoisted  her  up. 

When  Frank's  body  was  recognized,  he  was 
tenderly  carried  to  a  berth  in  the  cabin  amid  pro- 
found exclamations  of  sorrow.  For  the  bright, 
hearty,  genial  young  man  had  endeared  himself  to 
the  entire  party.  Restoratives  were  applied,  and 
when  signs  of  life  appeared,  the  steward,  who  was 
acting  surgeon,  prescribed  an  opiate.  While  he  was 
under  the  influence  of  the  drug,  the  steward,  with  an 
eye  to  the  dramatic,  dressed  his  wound,  swathing 
his  head  in  yards  of  ghostly  white  bandages.  Great 
was  the  curiosity  of  the  entire  party  to  know  why 
Frank  was  cruising  about  in  that  sloop  instead  of 
entertaining  his  guests  at  home.  The  fisherman 
only  knew  he  had  expressed  great  anxiety  to  find 
the  Flora;  then  they  knew  there  was  trouble  of 
some  kind,  and  orders  were  issued  to  make  all  pos- 
sible haste  to  get  back  to  La  Guayra. 

The  fisherman  wondered  if  he  had  won  his  reward  ; 
but  he  need  not  have  been  uneasy. 

Both  he  and  Enrique  received  more  than  had 
been  promised  them ;  and  Mr.  Tarbell  wished  he 
had  a  whole  fleet  of  sloops  to  dispose  of  at  the  rate 
he  got  for  the  Eliza  Jane. 

Suddenly,  like   a   ghost,  Frank    appeared    among 


A   RESCUE  221 

the  anxious  party  in  the  cabin.  He  was  pale  and 
a  bit  unsteady  on  his  legs,  but  chock  full  of  business. 

"What  time  is  it,  Uncle  Arthur  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  Frank,  what  a  start  you  have  given  us 
all,"  replied  Mr.  Lindsay,  as  he  led  the  young 
fellow  affectionately  to  a  large  easy  chair.  "  Now 
then,  young  man,"  he  continued,  "  give  an  account 
of  yourself.  What  were  you  doing  out  here  in 
that  smack  ?  " 

As  rapidly  as  he  could,  Frank  outlined  the  story, 
while  they  listened  in  silence.  Then  he  repeated 
his  question. 

"  One  thirty  A.M."  said  Mr.  Druse. 

"  Oh,  then,  I'm  afraid  we're  too  late !  I  told 
Enrique  he  might  return  with  the  horses  as  soon 
as  he  saw  by  the  southern  cross  that  it  was  after 
midnight." 

"That's  all  right,"  interjected  Robert;  "the  stars 
have  all  been  obscured  since  eleven  o'clock.  Wait, 
I'll  see  if  the  watch  have  seen  anything  of  his 
peculiar  signal." 

He  returned  in  a  moment,  and  reported  that  the 
watch  had  seen  and  been  puzzled  by  the  signal 
on  the  last  in-shore  tack. 

"  Good !  "  exclaimed  Frank,  "  the  old  fellow's 
desire  to  win  the  reward  will  be  our  salvation. 
We'll  make  it  yet,  uncle;  there  are  four  hours 
and  more  between  now  and  sunrise.  Anybody 


222  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

can  go  from  La  Guayra  to  Caracas  in  three 
hours ;  and  by  killing  the  mules  we  can  cut  that 
time  down  a  good  bit.  If  the  scoundrels  will  only 
hold  their  fire  till  sunrise,  we'll  give  them  a  run 
for  their  money." 

When  they  learned  that  Enrique  was  to  leeward, 
the  schooner  was  kept  away  a  couple  of  points,  and 
the  officer  of  the  deck  instructed  how  to  signal  the 
land  craft.  An  overwhelming  majority  decided 
that  Frank  had  done  his  share,  and  was  in  no  con- 
dition to  undertake  the  race  on  shore.  He  opposed 
this  verdict  until  his  uncle  was  obliged  to  tell  him 
that  in  his  present  condition  he  would  be  more  of 
a  hindrance  than  a  help.  Unwillingly  he  submitted 
and  allowed  Robert  Druse  to  ride  with  his  uncle 
on  the  return  journey.  By  the  time  this  was 
settled,  Enrique  had  been  signalled,  the  schooner 
was  brought  to,  and  Mr.  Lindsay  and  Robert  were 
rowed  rapidly  ashore. 

They  vaulted  into  the  saddles  and  were  off  like 
the  wind,  Enrique  shouting  unheeded  advice  after 
them,  concerning  the  road.  As  they  galloped 
along  side  by  side,  Mr.  Lindsay  said  :  — 

"  Don't  spare  your  horse,  Robert !  If  that  man 
is  executed,  and  these  horses  remain  alive,  I  shall 
always  feel  like  a  murderer."  He  instructed  the 
young  man  what  to  do  in  case  of  accident  to  him- 
self, as  they  plied  whip  and  spur,  tearing  along  in 


A   RESCUE  223 

the  darkness  through  an  utterly  strange  country. 
The  next  step  might  precipitate  them  into  anything, 
but  they  took  no  heed  of  that.  The  breaking  clouds 
gave  them  fitful  glimpses  of  the  stars,  and,  aided 
by  the  instinct  of  their  horses,  they  shaped  a  gen- 
eral course  for  La  Guayra.  The  horses  stumbled 
frequently,  but  avoided  a  fall.  Suddenly,  with  an 
almost  human  shriek  of  agony,  Mr.  Lindsay's  horse 
fell  on  its  knees,  pitching  him  over  its  head.  A 
sharp  stone,  standing  upright  like  a  chisel,  had 
stripped  the  flesh  from  the  poor  brute's  leg  from 
fetlock  to  knee. 

By  great  good  luck,  Mr.  Lindsay  was  pitched 
into  a  clump  of  bushes.  He  was  badly  scratched, 
and  his  clothing  nearly  torn  off.  Extricating  him- 
self quickly,  he  cried  :  — 

"  Your  horse,  Robert !     Let  me  have  your  horse  !  " 

Robert,  having  reined  in,  dismounted  at  once ; 
but  before  Mr.  Lindsay  could  remount,  the  peon 
arrived  leading  the  relay.  Thankfully  they  mounted 
the  fresh  horses  and  were  off  again  with  undi- 
minished  speed.  They  arrived  at  La  Guayra 
without  further  mishap.  Mr.  Lindsay  looked  at 
his  watch  before  mounting  the  mule.  "  Three  forty ; 
we've  got  to  gain  an  hour,  Robert !  I  fear  it 
will  be  impossible.  Thank  God,  Frank  has  a  relay 
at  La  Venta.  Come  on  !  " 

There  was  a  clatter  of    hoofs  as   two  frightened 


224  TOM    BENTON'S   LUCK 

mules  sped  up  the  face  of  the  Silla.  They  were 
only  asked  to  live  until  they  reached  La  Venta ; 
for  even  if  they  died  there,  their  lives  would  have 
been  a  success.  Fire  flew  from  their  hoofs  as  they 
sprang  like  chamois  up  the  rocky  slope.  Robert  fell 
in  behind,  as  Mr.  Lindsay,  being  familiar  with  the  road, 
could  take  better  advantage  of  it,  riding  alone.  They 
changed  to  fresh  animals  at  La  Venta,  and  continued 
their  upward  flight. 

As  they  rode  out  upon  the  level  land  above  the 
city,  the  rosy  glow  of  the  tropical  dawn,  so  soon  to  be 
followed  by  the  rising  sun,  was  upon  it,  and  the  sound 
of  fife  and  drum  was  wafted  to  them  on  the  pure 
morning  air. 

Without  slackening  the  breakneck  pace  Mr.  Lind- 
say turned  to  Robert  and  said  :  — 

"  Do  you  see  that  long  low  building  over  there  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That  is  the  barracks,  where  the  execution  will 
probably  take  place.  I  am  going  there,  and  you 
go  to  the  house  and  get  the  ensign  —  no  —  that  is 
upstairs  —  you  won't  have  time.  Kick  open  my  desk, 
and  you  will  find  a  Union  Jack  in  the  right-hand 
pigeon  hole.  Bring  it  to  me  at  the  barracks." 

Without  another  word  they  parted,  each  going  his 
own  way. 

When  Sir  John  and  Tom  were  thoroughly  gagged, 
their  escorts  dragged  them  to  their  feet,  and,  amid 


A   RESCUE  225 

more  jeering  and  cursing  from  the  crowd,  they  were 
kicked  and  cuffed  to  the  calaboose,  and  pushed  so 
roughly  in  that,  being  pinioned,  they  fell  heavily  on 
their  faces.  It  was  heart-breaking  treatment ;  but 
the  English  gentleman,  descended  from  a  long  line 
of  world  conquerors,  and  the  Yankee  boy,  descended 
from  the  men  who  conquered  the  Englishman's  an- 
cestors at  Yorktown,  were  not  yet  conquered  them- 
selves. 

They  rolled  over  on  their  backs,  and  rendering 
each  other  such  service  as  they  were  able,  with 
teeth  and  fingers,  they  not  only  removed  the  gags, 
but  also  the  thongs  which  bound  their  hands.  Ut- 
terly broken  down  and  worn  out  in  body,  they  sat 
on  the  damp  ground,  leaning  their  aching  backs 
against  the  wall,  and  tried  to  cheer  each  other  with 
helpful  talk.  As  they  were  to  die  at  sunrise,  neither 
food  nor  water  was  wasted  on  them.  At  last  their 
tongues  became  too  parched  to  talk,  so  they  sat  silent 
in  the  darkness,  and  as  the  night  dragged  its  weary 
length  along,  their  heads  fell  forward  on  their  breasts 
and  they  slept. 

Tom  dreamed  he  was  a  boy  again  on  board  the 
Columbia.  His  father's  voice  rang  in  his  ears,  but 
the  familiar  tones  gradually  changed  to  those  of 
Bully  Blake.  Before  he  fully  realized  that  he  was 
being  thrown  out  of  the  Portland  office,  he  was  sit- 
ting beside  Kitty  in  the  stern  sheets  of  the  Sprite. 
Q 


226  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

And  so  his  tired  brain  wove  tangled  fancies  in  his 
sleep,  flitting  from  one  subject  to  another,  until,  with 
a  bang,  the  door  was  flung  open.  The  flickering  rays 
of  a  lantern  dimly  illuminated  the  dark  hole,  and 
there  was  a  clanking  of  arms  as  the  two  forlorn 
prisoners  blinked  owlishly  at  the  file  of  soldiers  who 
had  come  thus  early  to  drag  them  forth  to  a  dog's 
death. 

Neither  spoke  —  not  even  to  each  other.  Slowly, 
painfully,  benumbed  by  their  bruises  and  cramped 
position,  they  stumbled  to  their  feet  at  the  command 
of  the  officer  of  the  guard.  They  were  quickly  pin- 
ioned and  hustled  out  into  the  sweet  morning  air, 
fragrant  with  the  scent  of  the  thousands  of  tropical 
flowers  which  bloom  continually  in  this  land  so 
favored  by  nature,  so  cursed  by  man. 

The  guards  formed  about  them ;  the  fife  and  drum 
struck  up  a  merry  lilt ;  a  sharp  word  of  command 
rent  the  air  like  a  bayonet  thrust ;  and  they  were  off. 
The  barracks  were  nearly  a  mile  from  the  jail,  and 
in  order  that  the  early  risers  might  view  the  spectacle, 
and  as  many  as  possible  be  induced  to  attend  the  exe- 
cution, the  officers  in  charge  took  a  roundabout  route. 
The  prisoners,  who  from  apathy  had  refrained  from 
speaking  to  each  other,  were  now  separated,  so  that 
speech  between  them  was  impossible.  What  the 
thoughts  of  Sir  John  were  on  this  occasion,  I  do  not 
know ;  but  Tom  Benton  has  often  told  me,  that 


A   RESCUE  227 

though  he  tried  to  remember  appropriate  things,  he 
could  think  of  nothing  but  the  expression  on  Mulli- 
gan's face  as  he  threw  his  sea-boot  at  him  just  before 
the  Spofford  capsized. 

Their  long  march,  tiresome  to  them  with  their 
empty,  fainting  stomachs,  came  to  an  end  at  last. 
They  doubled  the  end  of  the  barracks,  and  were 
placed  with  their  backs  to  a  whitewashed  wall. 
There  were  no  coffins  to  be  seen, — were  they  in- 
deed to  be  thrown  to  the  buzzards  ?  Tom  glanced 
sideways  at  Sir  John,  who  stood  two  paces  to  his 
right.  The  Englishman's  face  showed  pale  under 
its  tan,  but  there  was  a  frown  on  his  brow  and  a 
defiant  glitter  in  his  eye  that  helped  Tom  wonder- 
fully. The  soldiers  were  busy  deploying  about  the 
yard.  Sir  John  seized  the  opportunity  to  speak:  — 

"How  is  it  with  you,  Tom  ?  " 

"Pretty  tough,  Sir  John." 

"It  is  indeed,  my  lad.  I  am  sorry  I  brought  you 
to  this,  but  a  man  can  die  but  once.  Don't  let  them 
see  you  flinch  —  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  my  boy !  " 

"  I'll  not  let  on,  Sir  John  ;  never  fear  !  " 

"That's  right,  my  lad." 

So  they  stood,  these  two  comrades  of  such  recent 
acquaintanceship,  each  with  unlimited  faith  in  the 
other,  waiting  for  an  unmerited  death.  But  they  made 
no  sign,  for  they  were  of  the  breed  from  which  the 
heroes  of  Bunker  Hill  and  Balaklava  sprang. 


228  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

A  firing  squad  of  ten  men  was  drawn  up  in  front 
of  them.  The  officer  in  charge  of  the  execution  sat 
motionless  on  his  horse  a  few  paces  to  the  right  A 
subaltern  put  the  firing  party  through  the  loading 
drill.  The  sun  was  not  yet  risen,  but  a  brilliant 
golden  halo  in  the  east  showed  that  the  time  was 
nearly  up. 

Tom  took  in  the  entire  scene  with  a  hasty  glance. 
What  a  view  on  which  to  close  one's  eyes  forever ! 
The  filthy  barrack  yard,  a  gaping  crowd  of  pitiless 
natives,  and  a  squad  of  undersized,  swarthy  boy- 
soldiers.  Here  and  thus  was  to  end  the  career  on 
which  he  had  started  so  full  of  hope  and  ambition. 

The  man  on  horseback  spoke  a  few  words,  two 
soldiers  left  the  ranks,  and  advancing,  took  the 
prisoners  by  the  shoulders  and  turned  their  faces  to 
the  wall.  Tom  submitted  passively ;  but  Sir  John, 
watching  his  chance,  bobbed  his  head  sideways, 
giving  the  soldier  a  butt  that  floored  him.  Amid 
the  laughter  of  the  crowd  he  rose,  and  kicked  the 
prisoner  until  dragged  away. 

The  sun's  edge,  like  the  rim  of  a  great  golden 
disk,  showed  red  above  the  horizon,  his  level  rays 
touching  with  a  finger  of  fire  the  accoutrements  of  the 
soldiers  and  the  gaudy  uniform  of  the  officer.  The 
crowd  turned  their  faces  to  it  and  murmured  im- 
patiently. Like  the  crack  of  a  rifle  came  the  order, 
jerked  out  with  military  curtness  :  — 


A   RESCUE  229 

" Ready  ! " 

There  was  a  faint  sound  as  of  the  distant  clatter 
of  hoofs.  The  awe-silenced  crowd  involuntarily  in- 
clined their  heads  toward  it. 

"  Take  aim  !  " 

The  clattering  hoofs  were  at  the  end  of  the  bar- 
racks. A  voice  —  a  foreign  voice  —  shouted:  "Hold 
on  !  Hold  on  !  Don't  fire  !  " 

The  crowd  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  voice. 
The  soldiers  shifted  their  weight  to  the  other  foot. 
The  firing  party  unconsciously  lowered  the  muzzles 
of  their  guns.  The  subaltern  and  the  officer  in 
charge,  knowing  that  the  execution  of  foreigners, 
one  of  whom  had  declared  himself  to  be  an  English 
gentleman,  was  not  exactly  en  regie,  hesitated,  cran- 
ing their  necks. 

Round  the  corner  came  a  hatless,  tattered,  gray- 
haired  man  and  a  youth,  mounted  on  mules  that 
were  nearly  spent.  The  man's  face  and  hands  were 
so  disfigured  by  scratches  and  dried  blood  that  his 
own  mother  would  not  have  known  him.  As  they 
turned  the  corner,  the  youth  handed  the  old  man  a 
red,  white,  and  blue  parcel.  With  a  jerk  he  opened 
it  out.  It  was  the  Saint  George's  cross,  the  British 
Union  Jack.  His  mule,  in  turning,  stumbled,  planted 
its  fore-feet  straight  ahead,  wavered  from  side  to 
side,  and  as  it  fell,  exhausted,  the  old  gentleman, 
with  an  agility  of  which  a  vaquero  need  not  have 


230  TOM  BENTON'S   LUCK 

been  ashamed,  leaped  lightly  to  the  ground.  He 
rushed  in  front  of  the  firing  squad,  and  spread  the 
Jack  over  the  shoulders  of  the  prisoners,  then,  turn- 
ing to  the  soldiers  with  blazing  eyes,  he  shook  his 
fist  at  them,  and  roared  in  good  Anglo-Saxon  :  — 
"  Fire  on  that,  you  yellow  curs,  if  you  dare !  " 


"FIRE    ON    THAT    .        .    IF   YOU    DARE.' 


CHAPTER   XV 

A    GLORIOUS    RESPITE  —  KITTY  —  JONAS     SPELLMAN 

AN    EXASPERATING      INTERVIEW ADRIFT     AGAIN 

CAPTAIN   TOMPKINS THE    "  GRACIE  "    —  BOSTON 

Now  there  has  been  instilled  into  the  most  be- 
nighted nations  of  the  earth  a  wholesome  respect  for 
British  bunting,  knowing  it  to  be  backed  by  British 
guns. 

At  the  sound  of  that  ringing  defiance,  the  two 
prisoners  whirled  round  and  confronted  their  de- 
liverer, while  Mr.  Lindsay  peremptorily  ordered  the 
officer  to  release  them.  As  a  haughty  demeanor  con- 
veys the  idea  of  authority  to  the  Castilian  mind,  the 
officer  reluctantly  obeyed.  Mutual  introductions  fol- 
lowed, and  there  being  no  conveyance  at  hand,  Mr. 
Lindsay  invited  them  to  walk  home  with  him. 
"And,"  he  added,  "we  had  better  get  on;  force  is 
trumps  in  this  country.  I  have  overawed  this  party ; 
but  should  Don  Jorge  hear  of  it  before  you  arrive  at 
the  Legation,  he  might  dare  to  recapture  you." 

Mr.  Lindsay  took  Sir  John's  arm,  and  Robert 
assisted  Tom.  Once  within  the  precincts  of  the 
official  residence,  they  knew  they  were  safe,  and 

231 


232  TOM    BENTON'S   LUCK 

there  they  proceeded  to  bathe  and  refit.  As  Sir 
John's  henchmen  had  taken  his  entire  outfit  when 
they  deserted,  he  and  Tom  were  obliged  to  accept  the 
generous  offer  of  their  kind  hosts,  who  clothed  them 
from  their  own  wardrobes.  While  the  gentlemen, 
redolent  of  arnica  and  decorated  with  plasters,  were 
breakfasting,  the  yachting  party  arrived  full  of  anx- 
iety as  to  the  success  of  the  relief  expedition. 

Feeling  diffident  about  showing  themselves  to  the 
ladies  in  their  highly  ornamented  condition,  the 
rescued  ones  did  not  appear,  but  word  was  sent  that 
the  most  flattering  success  had  attended  Mr.  Lind- 
say's efforts,  and  as  nobody  had  slept  much  during 
the  night,  a  siesta  was  then  taken  until  noon. 

At  one  o'clock  the  parties  directly  interested  gath- 
ered in  Mr.  Lindsay's  office  to  sign  the  official  re- 
port. He  handed  printed  forms  to  Sir  John  and 
Tom,  with  the  request  that  they  should  fill  them  out. 
When  Tom  found  that  he  would  be  required  to  sign 
an  affidavit,  stating  that  he  was  a  British  subject,  he 
declined,  whereupon  Mr.  Lindsay  told  him  that  he 
was  unable  to  extend  the  protection  of  his  flag  to 
others  than  the  subjects  of  Great  Britain.  Tom  said 
he  knew  that,  and  asked  the  gentleman  for  the  ad- 
dress of  the  American  Minister.  Mr.  Lindsay  gave 
him  the  address,  but  asked  him  to  remain  over  night, 
or  indefinitely,  as  his  guest;  adding  that  he  could 
call  on  the  American  Minister  at  his  leisure.  Tom 


A  GLORIOUS   RESPITE  233 

felt,  however,  that  he  had  already  received  more 
favors  at  the  hands  of  the  genial  Englishman  than 
he  would  ever  be  able  to  repay;  so  he  preferred  to 
go  where  he  had  an  undoubted  right  to  assistance. 

Mr.  Druse  had  entered  the  office  and  was  reading 
a  paper  at  the  window.  While  Tom  and  the  minister 
were  talking,  Nellie  came  to  the  open  door  and 
said :  — 

"  Kitty  and  I  are  going  for  a  little  walk  with 
Robert  and  Mr.  Frank,  papa." 

''Very  well,  my  dear,  but  I  wouldn't  go  too  far 
from  the  house ;  you  know  we  are  not  regarded  very 
favorably  by  the  Venezuelans  just  at  present.  Gen- 
tlemen, this  is  my  daughter." 

The  men  rose  and  acknowledged  the  introduction 
respectfully,  while  Nellie  flushed  and  bowed.  A 
moment  later,  hearing  the  gate  click,  Tom  looked 
out  and  saw  the  backs  of  the  two  young  couples. 
He  recognized  Nellie,  and  looked  earnestly  at  her 
friend  who  bore  the  familiar  name  of  Kitty. 

Mr.  Lindsay  repeated  his  pressing  invitation  to 
Tom  to  make  his  home  at  the  Legation  during  his 
stay  in  Caracas,  and  Sir  John  and  Mr.  Druse  urged 
him  to  hurry  with  his  business  so  as  to  get  back  in 
time  for  dinner,  and  under  no  circumstances  to  allow 
himself  to  be  cajoled  into  staying  at  the  American 
Minister's.  With  a  cordial  handshake  all  round,  and 
kind  wishes  ringing  in  his  ears,  Tom  left  the  hospi- 


234  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

table  house,  the  name  of  Kitty  bringing  back  vividly 
to  his  mind  his  playmate  of  long  ago. 

Mr.  Jonas  Spellman,  the  American  Minister,  was 
a  politician  of  a  certain  candle  power.  His  personal 
efforts  during  the  last  Presidential  campaign  had 
contributed  largely  to  the  success  of  his  party,  not 
only  in  his  own  state,  but  elsewhere ;  and  although 
republics  may  be  ungrateful,  the  political  parties 
who  control  their  affairs  dare  not  entirely  ignore  that 
grandest  of  all  the  virtues  —  gratitude.  So  it  came 
about  that  after  the  new  administration  had  become 
thoroughly  warm  in  its  seat,  certain  of  Mr.  Spell- 
man's  fellow-townsmen  who  had  never  given  him 
credit  for  any  particularly  strong  points,  were  thrown 
into  a  state  of  mind  on  learning  that  he  had  been 
appointed  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to  the  Republic 
of  Venezuela.  Mr.  Spellman,  having  read  that  fort- 
une knocks  once  at  every  man's  door,  decided  that 
this  was  his  summons,  and  at  once  bent  all  his  en- 
ergies to  the  task  of  making  the  administration  of 
his  present  office  redound  to  his  future  credit.  Hav- 
ing reviewed  the  record  of  his  predecessor,  he  decided 
that  it  had  been  distinguished  by  a  lavish  expenditure 
of  public  money,  and  as  the  motto  of  the  present 
administration  was  retrenchment,  he  elected  to  shine 
as  an  economist. 

When  Tom  Benton,  keeping  his  weather  eye 
sharply  peeled  for  native  soldiers,  entered  the  min- 


A   GLORIOUS    RESPITE  235 

ister's  office,  he  found  that  diplomat  seated  with  his 
heels  on  his  desk,  in  an  apartment  which  contained 
not  another  article  of  furniture.  Had  he  been 
properly  costumed,  he  would  have  made  an  excellent 
model  for  a  picture  of  Uncle  Sam,  and  he  was 
industriously  chewing  plug  tobacco,  whereby  he  pro- 
vided himself  with  ammunition  for  the  discomfiture 
of  a  colony  of  red  ants  just  outside  the  window. 

"  Is  the  minister  in  ? "  inquired  Tom,  glancing 
about  the  bare  room. 

"Yes." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  him  if  I  can." 

"Well,  sir,  you  see  him  right  here.     I'm  the  man." 

Tom  told  him  he  was  an  American  citizen  in  dis- 
tress, and  would  like  a  little  assistance  to  get  home. 
Mr.  Spellman  asked  for  his  "protection." 

"  My  protection  ? "  exclaimed  Tom,  who  was  be- 
coming nettled  by  his  indifference.  "  It  was  in  my 
chest  when  th&Jane  Spofford  capsized  ;  I  don't  know 
where  it  is  now.  A  man  doesn't  carry  his  protection 
round  in  his  pocket  when  he's  on  watch." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  you,  my  boy,"  replied  the 
minister,  cynically.  "  If  you  had  protection  papers 
to  prove  your  right  to  the  assistance  of  my  govern- 
ment, I'd  have  to  give  it  to  you  ;  as  it  is,  I  don't." 

"  I'll  swear  that  I'm  a  native  born  citizen,  and  so 
were  my  parents  and  grandparents  for  I  don't  know 
how  many  generations  back,"  replied  Tom,  indignantly. 


236  TOM   BENTON'S  LUCK 

"  I  don't  doubt  it ;  if  that  was  all  that  was  wanted, 
I  could  get  men  to  swear  every  dollar  out  of  the 
treasury." 

"  I  should  think  you  could  tell  by  my  looks  and 
talk  that  I  am  an  American." 

"  No;  by  your  talk  I  should  take  you  to  be  a 
Bluenose ;  and  by  your  looks  I  should  say  you 
might  be  one  o'  the  rebels  that  I  hear  tried  to  take 
the  town  the  other  day." 

"  I  was  in  that  party;  and  but  for  the  interference 
of  Mr.  Lindsay  I  should  have  been  shot  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  Oho  —  a  filibuster,  hey  ?  I  thought  perhaps 
you'd  let  it  out  after  a  while.  Shipwrecked  sailors 
are  not  very  plentiful,  as  a  rule,  up  here  in  the  moun- 
tains." 

His  sneering  manner  was  very  galling,  but  Tom 
remembered  that  he  had  not  even  a  rag  of  clothing 
of  his  own.  He  wished  to  return  those  lent  him  by 
Robert  Druse,  and  to  be  provided  with  subsistence 
until  he  could  get  out  of  the  country ;  so  he  re- 
strained his  anger,  and  stated  his  position  fully. 
Mr.  Spellman  listened  with  a  bored  expression,  as 
though  it  was  a  very  old  story  indeed,  and  then 
said :  — 

"  If  Mr.  Lindsay  sees  fit  to  run  up  an  expense 
account  against  his  government,  and  to  take  the 
risk  of  raising  an  international  complication,  that's 


A  GLORIOUS   RESPITE  237 

his  business ;  I'm  not  here  for  that  purpose.  If 
you  fellows  stayed  at  home  and  attended  to  your 
crops  instead  of  coming  out  here  and  stirring  up 
these  hot-headed  natives  to  rebel  against  their  gov- 
ernment, you'd  be  better  off.  You  wouldn't  get 
yourselves  into  these  scrapes ;  and  when  you  do, 
you  needn't  come  to  me  to  pull  you  out  of  them, 
for  I  won't  do  it" 

Tom  was  boiling  with  rage  now.  He  shook  his 
fist  under  the  nose  of  the  imperturbable  minister, 
and  roared :  - 

"  I  don't  want  any  protection  from  you  —  I 
wouldn't  accept  it  now  if  you  offered  it.  I've  pro- 
tected myself  so  far,  and  I  can  do  so  till  I  get  back 
to  the  States.  And  when  I  do  get  there  I'll  write 
a  letter  to  Washington  about  the  way  you  treat 
American  citizens  who  are  stranded  out  here !  " 

"That's  your  privilege,  my  boy,"  replied  Mr. 
Spellman,  nonchalantly. 

Tom  was  ashamed  to  return  to  the  British  Lega- 
tion. The  boorish  manner  in  which  he  had  been 
treated  by  Mr.  Spellman  was  such  a  contrast  to  Mr. 
Lindsay's  that  he  felt  somehow  disgraced  by  it.  Nor 
could  he  return  Robert  Druse's  clothes;  and  although 
he  felt  sure  it  was  not  expected,  he  would  have  liked 
to  be  able  to.  His  poverty  made  him  sensitive.  He 
would  have  to  tell  of  his  failure  to  obtain  assistance 
from  the  American  Minister ;  then,  knowing  him 


238  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

to  be  destitute,  what  would  they  think  was  his  ob- 
ject in  accepting  an  invitation  which  was  probably 
only  tendered  out  of  politeness  ?  He  was  away 
from  them  now ;  he  had  no  claim  on  any  one  there, 
and  he  would  stay  away.  There  wasn't  one  chance 
in  a  million  that  he  would  ever  see  any  of  them 
again,  for  he  would  get  out  of  the  country  as 
quickly  as  possible. 

It  was  now  evening.  He  knew  approximately  the 
direction  in  which  the  La  Guayra  road  lay ;  and  so, 
after  more  than  a  year  of  hard  work  in  one  of  the 
most  productive  countries  under  the  sun,  he  started, 
with  an  empty  pocket  and  a  heart  filled  with  bitter- 
ness, to  put  the  first  of  many  thousands  of  miles 
between  himself  and  the  playmate  of  his  boyhood. 
Had  she  only  known  of  his  presence  in  the  moun- 
tain capital,  with  what  exquisite  pleasure  would 
she  have  sought  him  out  and  told  him  of  the  little 
fortune  awaiting  him  in  the  bank  at  home. 

He  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  road.  He 
travelled  steadily  on  until  he  was  far  enough  from 
the  city  to  feel  safe  from  the  military ;  then  he  sat 
down  on  a  mossy  log,  took  his  head  between  his 
hands,  and  cogitated.  After  indulging  in  all  the 
unpleasant  thoughts  that  came  to  him,  wondering 
why  ill  luck  pursued  him  so  relentlessly,  and  almost 
giving  up  in  despair,  he  rose  and  shook  himself. 
The  evening  in  that  high  altitude  was  becoming 


A   GLORIOUS   RESPITE  239 

chilly.  "Pshaw!"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "I'm  get- 
ting to  be  worse  than  an  old  woman.  It's  hardly 
twelve  hours  since  I  escaped  being  shot,  and  now 
I'm  whining !  "  He  started  down  the  road.  Feel- 
ing faint,  he  had  no  hesitation  in  plucking  a  "  hand  " 
of  bananas.  Surely  the  country  owed  him  that  much ! 
When  part  of  the  way  down  the  mountain  he  left  the 
road,  sought  a  convenient  place,  and  passed  the  night 
in  comparative  comfort.  In  the  morning  he  broke 
his  fast  as  before,  and  continued  on  to  the  port. 

There  were  several  vessels  in  the  port,  among 
them  two  American  schooners  and  a  brigantine. 
He  walked  about  the  place  for  an  hour  or  so,  and 
the  heat  becoming  oppressive,  he  strolled  down  to 
the  landing,  found  a  shady  place  among  the  piles  of 
merchandise,  and  sat  down  to  enjoy  the  light  breath 
of  air  that  barely  rippled  the  water.  Toward  noon 
a  boat  put  off  from  the  outer  schooner,  and,  with 
the  long,  easy  stroke  of  the  merchant  service, 
pulled  up  to  the  landing.  There  were  but  two 
oarsmen  in  her,  hale,  sunburned  fellows,  with  per- 
spiration streaming  down  their  hairy  breasts  and 
bare  arms.  The  captain,  a  typical  Yankee  skipper, 
sat  in  the  stern  sheets  and  gave  the  necessary  orders 
for  bringing  the  boat  alongside.  He  stepped  ashore, 
and  telling  the  men  not  to  leave  her,  started  off  up 
the  street. 

Tom    started    after   him.       "  Good    morning,    cap- 


240  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

tain !  "  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  arrived  within  easy 
hailing  distance.  The  captain  —  a  little,  wiry, 
hungry-looking  man  —  turned  quickly  and  regarding 
him  with  a  look  of  mingled  curiosity  and  suspicion, 
said:  "  Hey  ?  " 

"  Good  morning,  sir ! "  replied  Tom  with  affected 
cheerfulness.  "  You  are  the  captain  of  that  schooner 
out  there,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  shortly. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  bound  to  the  States,  sir  ? 
I'm  stranded  here  and  would  like  to  get  home." 

"  Do  you  belong  in  the  States  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Whereabouts?" 

"  Portland,  sir." 

"  What  vessel  have  you  run  away  from  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  run  away  from  any,  sir.  I  was 
wrecked,  and  came  here  overland." 

"I  ain't  heerd  o'  no  wrecks  round  here  lately,  an' 
I  don't  like  the  looks  o'  ye ;  ye  look  as  if  ye'd  been 
on  a  long  spree  ashore  ;  ye're  all  cut  up.  I  don't 
b'leeve  ye've  ever  been  to  sea.  Where'd  ye  get 
them  parson's  togs  ?  " 

"  The  togs  were  given  me  by  an  English  gentle- 
man, and  I've  been  to  sea  all  my  life,  as  long  as  I 
can  remember." 

"  Sho  !  Ye  don't  say  !  how  many  sheaves  in  a 
lower  dead-eye?" 


A  GLORIOUS   RESPITE  241 

Tom  had  to  laugh  at  the  familiar  old  chestnut. 
The  captain  relaxed  a  bit  too,  and  said :  "  I'm  going 
up  here  to  finish  a  little  business,  and  I'll  be  back  in 
half  an  hour.  If  you  are  around  then,  I'll  see," 
and  with  that  he  shambled  off. 

Tom's  first  impulse  was  to  return  to  the  landing 
and  pump  the  boat's  crew,  but,  remembering  the 
captain's  evidently  suspicious  nature,  he  decided  not 
to,  but  hung  about  the  place  where  he  had  spoken 
to  the  captain.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  he  saw 
him  returning.  The  captain  pretended  not  to  see 
him  and  was  going  right  by,  but  Tom  hailed  him 
again. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it  ?  Thought  you'd  'a'  been  drunk 
long  'fore  this." 

"I  don't  get  drunk,  sir,"  Tom  replied  indignantly. 

"  Don't,  hey  ?     Where's  your  dunnage  ?  " 

"  On  my  back,  sir  —  all  I  have." 

"  Well,  come  on  if  you  want  to  go  with  me ;  I'm 
going  aboard  and  going  to  sail  right  away."  Tom 
followed  his  new  commander  into  the  boat  with 
alacrity. 

"  Nelson,"  said  the  captain  to  the  burly  Swede 
who  had  the  stroke,  "let  this  man  take  your  oar." 

Tom  had  eaten  nothing  but  a  few  bananas  since 
the  day  before,  but  he  was  so  elated  at  feeling  a 
white  man's  boat  bounding  under  him  once  more, 
and  at  the  sound  of  a  genuine  Yankee  voice,  twang 


242  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

and  all,  that  he  swung  the  sixteen-foot  ash  vigor- 
ously, so  that  the  bowman  puffed  and  sweated  worse 
than  he  had  done  coming  ashore.  Captain  Tomp- 
kins  was  satisfied  long  before  he  got  alongside  that 
Tom  had  "  been  there  before,"  in  spite  of  his  funny- 
looking  togs. 

The  Grade  was  a  smart  two  hundred  and  fifty 
ton  Boston  schooner.  That  much  Tom  learned  by 
a  glance  at  her  heavily  laden  hull  and  stern,  as  the 
boat  rounded  to  at  the  starboard  gangway.  The 
moment  the  captain's  foot  touched  the  deck  he  ordered 
the  mate  to  heave  short.  As  her  crew  consisted  of 
but  four  men,  including  Tom,  it  was  a  killing  job  to 
get  her  under  way ;  but  when  with  both  gaff  topsails 
and  flying  jib  on  her  she  gathered  way  and  pointed 
her  jib-boom  out  of  La  Guayra,  Tom  Benton  felt 
profoundly  thankful.  He  looked  back  at  the  land, 
shook  his  fist  at  it,  and  said  :  — 

"  Thank  God  I'm  through  driving  bulls  and  revo- 
lutionizing there." 

When  the  last  sheet  was  belayed,  and  not  before, 
Captain  Tompkins  called  for  a  man  to  relieve  him  at 
the  wheel.  Tom,  according  to  his  invariable  custom, 
jumped  at  the  word.  The  other  three  found  no  fault 
with  that ;  for  now  that  the  sail  was  on  her,  they  could 
go  to  dinner,  schooner  fashion.  Telling  Tom  to 
keep  a  sharp  lookout,  the  captain  and  mate  went 
below  to  dinner,  also  schooner  fashion. 


A   GLORIOUS   RESPITE  243 

Tom  was  dreadfully  hungry.  The  hard  work  and 
familiar  salt  air  put  an  edge  on  his  appetite  that  not 
even  the  llanos  could  equal.  Three-quarters  of  an 
hour  later  the  captain  and  mate  returned  to  the  deck, 
smoking  and  discussing  the  prospects  of  a  fast  run 
home.  Seeing  Tom  still  at  the  wheel,  the  captain 
exclaimed:  "What?  Ain't  you  relieved  yet ?"  The 
mate,  taking  the  cue,  roared  out :  "  Relieve  the  wheel 
here,  one  o'  ye." 

Presently  a  man  came  shambling  along  the  lee 
gangway,  and  as  he  took  the  wheel  Captain  Tomp- 
kins  asked :  "  What's  the  matter  with  you  fellers 
forrard  there  ?  Don't  you  think  anybody  wants  any 
dinner  but  yerselves  ?  " 

It  was  the  Swede  whose  oar  Tom  had  taken.  He 
muttered  something  about  having  a  smoke  ;  but  the 
captain  told  him  it  was  time  enough  to  smoke  after 
all  hands  had  dined.  Tom  was  not  in  the  most 
angelic  temper  when  he  entered  the  forecastle  where 
the  other  two  "  Souwegians "  lay  in  their  bunks 
smoking.  The  only  food  visible  was  a  piece  of  cold 
boiled  yam,  about  the  size  of  a  small  potato.  An 
empty  pan  on  the  deck  indicated  by  a  few  fragments 
of  bone  and  gristle  that  it  had  once  contained  beef. 
A  smaller  one  bore  evidence  of  having  been  filled 
with  bread  pudding. 

"  Pretty  well  cleaned  out,  hey  ? "  said  Tom,  with 
affected  cheerfulness.  "  I'll  have  to  see  what  the 


244  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

doctor  has  left  in  the  galley."  Gathering  up  the 
dishes,  he  presented  himself  at  the  galley  door.  The 
negro  cook  informed  him  that  he  had  no  more  food. 
Aft  he  went,  and  exhibiting  his  piece  of  yam,  told 
the  captain  his  trouble. 

"  Go  to  the  galley,"  said  the  captain;  "the  cook 
will  give  you  something  to  eat." 

"  I  have  been  there,  sir,  and  he  says  he  has 
nothing." 

"  Wha-a-t !  Cook,  come  aft  here  !  Why  don't  you 
give  this  man  something  to  eat  ?  " 

"  I  sen'  all  de  dinner  to  de  forecastle,  sah,  an'  dey 
done  et  it  up." 

"  What  did  ye  do  that  for  ?  Don't  ye  know 
enough  to  save  dinner  for  the  man  at  the  wheel  ?  I 
swanny,  I'm  ashamed  on  ye ;  an  American  nigger  to 
let  a  lot  o'  Dutch  sailors  get  ahead  o'  him  like  that. 
You  go  down  an'  eat  whatever  you  find  on  the  cabin 
table,  young  man,  an'  never  mind  sparin'  any  for  the 
cook;  he  can  look  out  for  himself  or  go  hungry.  Be 
hanged  if  I'll  see  the  man  that's  done  more  work 
than  all  three  o'  them  hogs  together,  cheated  out  o' 
his  dinner." 

When  Tom  finished,  he  went  forward,  where  he 
found  the  other  two  still  smoking.  "  I  had  dinner  in 
the  cabin,"  said  he,  by  way  of  starting  a  conversation. 
Nobody  made  any  reply.  "  Where  are  we  bound  for, 
shipmates  ?"  he  asked,  with  persistent  pleasantness. 


A  GLORIOUS   RESPITE  245 

Restrained  by  that  sense  of  superiority  which  men 
in  employment  feel  over  one  less  fortunate,  they 
silently  puffed  away  at  their  pipes.  Feeling  that  he 
had  received  about  all  of  this  silent  contempt  that 
his  case  called  for,  Tom  reached  into  the  bunk  of 
the  bigger  of  the  two,  and  seizing  him  by  the  collar, 
gave  him  the  bul]-tail  twist.  Out  came  the  great 
lubber,  floundering  over  his  chest,  his  pipe  and  tin- 
ware flying  in  different  directions  as  he  sprawled 
on  deck.  Tom  jerked  him  to  his  feet,  slapped  his 
face  a  couple  of  times,  and  said  :  — 

"  You  I'm  talking  to,  Johannus ;  a  little  hard  of 
hearing,  ain't  ye? " 

The  fellow  steadied  himself  by  the  bunkboard, 
glared  savagely,  and  said :  "  Say,  don'  you  do  dat 
agin.  You  hear  ?  " 

"  All  right,  Dutch ;  don't  ask  me  to  then.  Be  as 
civil  as  you  can,  and  you'll  get  along  better.  You  fel- 
lows mustn't  think  that  because  I  made  a  pier-head 
jump  of  it,  am  flying  light  for  dunnage,  and  have  a 
little  bark  knocked  off  in  spots,  that  I'm  as  green  as 
I  look.  I  asked  you  where  we  were  bound ;  now 
pipe  up  before  the  earthquake  comes  round  again." 

"  Boston,  ven  you  vant  ter  know." 

"  Thanks  !  If  I  hadn't  wanted  to  know,  I  shouldn't 
have  asked ;  now  how  comes  it  that  there  are  only 
four  of  us  forrard  ?  Are  three  men  a  full  crew  for 
this  hooker?  " 


246  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  Course  not !  Didn't  Yacopson  git  drunk  ven  he 
vas  ashore  an'  fall  overboard  an'  git  de  Yaller  Yack 
an'  die  in  de  hospital?" 

This  statement  enlightened  Tom  with  regard  to 
Captain  Tompkins'  generosity  in  giving  him  a  pas- 
sage home.  He  was  getting  the  service  of  a  man 
for  his  keep  ;  and  thereby  assuring  his  insurance. 

Having  satisfied  the  scruples  of  his  shipmates, 
Tom  had  no  further  trouble  with  them,  and  they 
acknowledged  the  supremacy  which  intelligence  and 
grit  invariably  acquire  over  loutish  natures  like  theirs. 
Tom  replaced  the  defunct  " Yacopson"  in  the  star- 
board watch.  As  the  captain  stood  his  own  watch, 
they  two,  with  the  democracy  which  obtains  on  small 
vessels,  became  quite  well  acquainted  before  the 
Boston  pilot  boarded  her.  The  inquisitive  Yankee 
skipper  never  tired  of  hearing  Tom  tell  of  his  strange 
adventures  in  Venezuela.  He  would  lie  at  full  length 
on  top  of  the  cabin  and  ask  questions  while  Tom 
was  at  the  wheel.  Sometimes,  in  order  to  hear  the 
finish  of  an  adventure,  he  would  take  her  himself 
at  four  bells,  and  steer  until  the  story  was  ended. 

He  remembered  having  heard  of  the  Jane  Spofford 
insurance  case ;  it  had  been  somewhat  celebrated 
in  the  courts.  He  had  not  heard,  or  had  forgotten, 
what  the  verdict  was ;  but  he  rather  guessed  that  all 
hands  would  be  interested  in  Tom's  account.  He 
advised  him  to  "see"  both  parties  before  telling  his 


A  GLORIOUS   RESPITE  247 

story.  Tom  would  not  argue  with  his  superior,  but 
he  decided  that  a  straightforward  course  was  good 
enough  for  him. 

He  walked  ashore  in  Boston,  as  he  had  come  aboard 
in  La  Guayra,  except  that  his  clothes  were  consider- 
ably the  worse  for  wear.  After  two  or  three  refusals, 
he  found  a  boarding-house,  where  the  landlord  ad- 
vised him  to  be  present  when  the  Grade  s  crew  were 
paid,  and  strike  "  Old  Tompkins  "  for  some  money. 
He  did  so,  and  when  Captain  Tompkins  saw  him 
bringing  up  the  rear  of  the  file,  he  asked  him  what 
he  was  doing  there. 

"Why,"  said  Tom,  assuming  as  brazen  a  front  as 
possible,  "  I  know  I  wasn't  regularly  shipped ;  but 
you  were  short-handed,  and  I  really  took  Jacobson's 
place.  I  wouldn't  ask  you  for  anything,  captain, 
although  I  feel  that  I  have  earned  as  much  as  any 
of  the  crew  on  the  passage  home ;  but  you  know 
how  I'm  fixed.  I've  only  got  the  duds  I  stand  in 
and  not  one  cent  of  money." 

The  captain  looked  at  him  severely  while  he  was 
making  this  long  statement.  His  brow  was  wrinkled 
and  his  lips  were  pursed.  "  Did  I  agree  to  pay  you 
any  wages  ?  "  he  asked,  when  Tom  finished. 

"  No,  sir;  not  a  cent." 

"You  was  glad  enough  out  there  in  La  Guayra 
to  get  a  passage  home,  warn't  ye  ? " 

"  I  was  ;  yes,  sir." 


248  TOM   BENTON'S  LUCK 

"Then  I  don't  see  how  I  owe  ye  anything." 

"  I  don't  claim  that  you  do,  sir  —  at  least,  not 
legally." 

"  Oh,  then,  if  I  was  to  give  you  anything,  you'd 
take  it  as  charity,  hey  ? " 

"  Well,  no,  sir ;  not  exactly  that.  I  consider  I 
have  earned  it,  even  though  I  have  not  a  legal  right 
to  it." 

"  Now,  there  you  just  stated  the  case  exactly.  I 
don't  owe  ye  nothin',  an'  ye  don't  want  no  charity. 
A  man  ain't  compelled  to  pay  what  he  don't  owe,  an' 
I  shan't  give  you  nothin'.  If  you  can  collect  it,  go 
ahead." 

Tom  could  have  kicked  himself  with  a  hearty  good 
will  for  giving  the  old  skinflint  the  opportunity  to 
humiliate  him  so  publicly  ! 

Next  day  he  went  to  the  office  of  Mr.  Jabez  Cart- 
wright,  owner  of  the  Jane  Spofford. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MR.   JABEZ   CARTWRIGHT  TOM   FINDS   GENEROSITY 

STILL  A  MYTH  —  THE  "  BARRACOOTA  "  -  CAPTAIN 

HENRY  BRADFORD  A   FRIEND   AT   LAST  —  LUCK 

TURNS  FOR  THE  BETTER  —  OFF  FOR  MADRAS 

THE  clerk  looked  Tom  over  suspiciously,  and 
asked  him  if  he  wished  to  see  Mr.  Cartwright 
personally.  "  As  I  don't  know  any  other  way," 
said  Tom,  "I  guess  I  do."  His  flippancy  increased 
the  clerk's  unfavorable  opinion.  He  dallied  until 
the  porter  returned  from  sweeping  the  sidewalk, 
and  then,  half  doubtingly,  requested  Tom  to  be 
seated  while  he  entered  the  private  office. 

"  Mr.  Cartwright  told  me  to  ask  you  your  busi- 
ness with  him,"  said  he,  returning  a  moment 
later. 

"I  was  second  mate  of  the  Jane  Spofford  — " 
Here  the  door  of  the  sanctum,  which  the  clerk  had 
left  ajar,  was  suddenly  opened  from  within,  and  a 
peculiar  figure  appeared. 

Mr.  Jabez  Cartwright,  the  successful  merchant 
and  wealthy  ship-owner,  the  man  whose  word  was 
as  good  as  a  government  bond,  but  who  had  never 

249 


250  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

been  guilty  of  a  charitable  or  even  generous  act, 
was  at  that  time  in  his  seventy-eighth  year.  He 
was  a  short,  bow-legged,  round-shouldered,  pot- 
bellied little  man,  with  a  very  large  square  head. 
His  snow-white  hair  was  still  thick  and  stood 
straight  out  in  all  directions,  further  increasing 
in  appearance  the  abnormal  size  of  his  head.  His 
face  was  seamed  with  fine  wrinkles  ;  and  a  pair  of 
expressionless,  beady  black  eyes,  looked  at  you 
unwinkingly  like  a  rat.  The  grotesqueness  of  his 
appearance  was  heightened  by  a  gleaming  set  of 
false  teeth  of  such  a  poor  fit  that  his  lips  failed 
to  meet  over  them.  He  also  had  a  very  prominent 
nose,  which  was  bright  blue  at  the  tip,  shading  off 
into  purple,  vermilion,  carnation,  and  pink. 

His  favorite  attitude  was  leaning  with  his  left 
elbow  on  the  desk,  caressing  this  prominent  organ 
with  his  hand.  He  would  stroke  it  gently  its  entire 
length,  lingering  lovingly  a  moment  at  the  extrem- 
ity, and  then  repeat  the  caress.  Various  reasons 
had  been  assigned  by  the  irreverent  clerks  for  this 
habit  on  the  part  of  their  employer.  Some  held 
that  the  thing  pained  him,  and  he  stroked  it  to 
soothe  it ;  others,  that  being  sensitive,  he  tried  to 
keep  his  deformity  covered  as  much  as  possible. 
As  he  could  easily  have  had  it  painted  a  less  gaudy 
hue,  this  theory  had  few  adherents. 

Beckoning  to  Tom  with  his  free  hand,  Mr.  Cart- 


A  FRIEND   AT   LAST  2$  I 

wright  called  him  in.  When  the  door  was  closed 
and  they  were  seated,  he  commenced  polishing 
his  horn,  while  the  little  black  eyes  seemed  to  look 
right  through  Tom's  head. 

"You  were  second  mate  of  the  Spofford?  " 

"Yes  sir." 

"  Last  voyage?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Who  was  the  captain  ?  " 

"Captain  Josiah  Beebe." 

He  produced  a  paper  from  his  desk,  and,  keep- 
ing his  eyes  fixed  on  it,  asked  Tom  to  repeat  the 
names  of  as  many  of  the  crew  as  he  could  remember. 
He  repeated  them  all  except  the  cook,  steward,  and 
carpenter ;  who  were  known  only  by  their  titles. 
The  old  gentleman  checked  them  off  on  his  list 
as  Tom  called  them  out. 

"  Now  what  is  your  name,  please  ? " 

"  Thomas  Benton,  sir." 

"  Correct.  Now,  Mr.  Benton,  where  and  under 
what  circumstances  did  you  leave  the  Spoffordf  " 

While  Tom  related  the  story  of  the  loss  of  the 
ship,  Mr.  Cartwright  carefully  and  industriously 
rubbed  his  nose. 

"  I  presume,"  said  he  at  the  conclusion,  "  that  you 
have  no  objection  to  making  an  affidavit  to  that 
effect?" 

"None  whatever,  sir." 


252  TOM  BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  Very  well,  then ;  you  be  here  to-morrow  at  ten 
o'clock,  and  it  shall  be  attended  to." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  and  bowed  himself 
out. 

Mr.  Cartwright  touched  a  call-bell,  and  a  boy  en- 
tered. "Jones,"  said  he.  The  boy  silently  withdrew, 
and  Jones  appeared.  "  Follow  that  young  man  who 
just  went  out,  and  let  me  know  if  he  has  any  com- 
munication with  the  underwriters." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir."  Jones  left,  and  on  the  repetition 
of  the  signal  the  boy  had  "  Davidson  "  fired  at  him. 

Davidson  was  a  big  enough  man  to  take  a  seat 
in  the  presence  without  waiting  for  an  invitation. 
Mr.  Cartwright  told  him  of  the  return  of  the  second 
mate  of  the  Spofford,  and  dictated  Tom's  story  to 
him  verbatim.  Mr.  Davidson  drew  up  the  affidavit, 
and  suggested  that  it  would  have  been  a  good  idea 
to  detain  the  young  man  until  his  signature  had 
been  obtained.  On  learning  that  Jones  was  watching 
him,  however,  he  seemed  satisfied. 

The  next  day  Tom  met  the  two  gentlemen  at  the 
appointed  time. 

"  I  have  had  your  report  reduced  to  writing,  Mr. 
Benton,"  said  Mr.  Cartwright,  when  they  were  seated 
and  the  door  closed.  "The  notary  will  read  it  to 
you,  and  if  you  find  it  correct  you  can  sign  it." 

In  a  rapid,  droning  tone,  Mr.  Davidson  read  the 
document.  To  Tom's  surprise  it  was  correct  in  every 


A   FRIEND   AT   LAST  253 

detail.  Three  gray-headed  clerks  signed  after  him 
as  witnesses. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  privately,  Mr.  Cartwright?" 
asked  Tom. 

"You  may  consider  me  alone  now." 

"  I  lost  everything  I  had  in  the  Spofford,  and 
worked  my  passage  home  from  La  Guayra.  I 
am,  in  fact,  actually  destitute." 

Mr.  Cartwright  rubbed  his  nose  slowly,  medita- 
tively. "Well,  sir?"  he  asked,  as  Tom,  suddenly 
realizing  that  he  was  almost  begging  again,  stopped 
for  very  shame. 

"  I  thought  —  perhaps  —  in  consideration  of  my 
bringing  you  news  of  your  ship,  you  might  —  might 
help  me  in  some  way." 

"  In  your  affidavit  you  state  that  the  Spofford  cap- 
sized on  the  twenty-ninth  day  out.  You  received  a 
month's  advance,  did  you  not  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  in  strict  justice  you  owe  me  a  day's  pay. 
It  would  hardly  pay  to  sue  for  it,  even  if  you  had 
any  effects,  though  in  that  case  I  should  probably 
do  it  from  principle.  I  fail  to  see  how  you  have  any 
claim  on  me." 

"  Isn't  my  affidavit  worth  anything  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  we  shall  use  it  at  all ;  but  if  I 
needed  your  evidence  I  could  have  you  sent  to  the 
House  of  Detention,  and  when  the  time  came  you 


254  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

would  have  to  testify  under  oath.  I  have  put  myself 
out,  and  spared  you  this  annoyance,  by  allowing  you 
to  make  this  affidavit.  If  you  are  out  of  employ- 
ment, I  may  be  able  to  find  a  place  for  you.  Are 
you  competent  to  sail  as  mate  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  or  master.  I  was  educated  by  my 
father,  and  brought  his  vessel  home  from  the  West 
Indies  after  he  died.  I  was  only  fifteen  at  that 
time." 

"  Hm-m-m-m  !     Willis  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ?  " 

"  See  if  Henry  has  a  mate  yet ;  if  not,  tell  him 
not  to  employ  any  until  he  hears  from  me." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  If  you  will  call  at  this  time  to-morrow,  Mr. 
Benton,  I  may  be  able  to  do  something  for  you." 

Tom  thanked  him — he  hardly  knew  why  —  and 
returned  to  his  boarding-house. 

The  boarding-master   greeted  him  with  :   "  Sa-ay, 
young  feller,  you  don't  want  ter  go  strayin'  round. 
I've  been   lookin'  for  ye   for  the  last  two  hours  — 
might  ha  knowed  ye'd  turn  up  at  dinner-time  —  I  got 
a  ship  fer  ye  !  " 

Tom  replied  that  he  believed  he  had  found  a  berth 
himself. 

"  B'leeve,  hey  ?  B'leeve  nothin'  !  B'leeve  is  all 
right,  only  it  don't  pay  board  bills.  There  ain't  no 
Vleeve  about  this  ship ;  an'  you  got  ter  go  in  her. 


A   FRIEND   AT   LAST  255 

You  owe  me  enough  now  —  board  and  bar  bill  —  to 
eat  up  all  yer  advance." 

"  Bar  bill?" 

"  Yes,  bar  bill.  That's  United  States,  ain't  it  ?  Do 
you  think  I  furnish  free  whiskey  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  nor  care  anything  about  your 
whiskey  ;  but  I  pay  no  bar  bill!  Mind  that !  " 

"All  right,  me  fine  buck,  I'll  see  whether  you'll 
rob  me  or  not.  I'll  attend  to  your  case.  You'll  pay 
yer  bar  bill  all  right." 

Knowing  the  futility  of  arguing  with  the  shark, 
Tom  walked  away ;  but  he  decided  to  keep  his 
weather  eye  lifting.  He  would  have  locked  his 
sleeping-room,  but  it  was  a  public  dormitory,  open 
at  all  hours.  Sometime  during  the  night,  he  was 
awakened  by  a  sensation  of  cold,  and  of  being  jolted 
about.  He  soon  discovered  that  he  was  on  a  truck- 
load  of  seaman's  baggage,  and  being  driven  through 
the  street.  He  had  been  drugged !  The  boarding- 
master  was  seated  beside  the  driver, ,  both  silently 
puffing  at  very  inferior  cigars.  Not  having  been 
tied,  he  had  little  difficulty  in  wriggling  himself  to 
the  rear  of  the  load.  From  there  he  dropped  quietly 
to  the  ground,  the  wagon  rumbling  noisily  away  over 
the  cobblestones.  He  was  in  his  stocking  feet,  hat- 
less  and  coatless.  With  all  the  speed  that  was  in 
him  he  dodged  around  the  first  corner  —  plump 
into  a  fat  policeman,  who  was  leisurely  patrolling 


256  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

his  beat,  absorbed  in  contemplating  his  own 
grandeur. 

"  Ah  ha  !  young  feller  !  Glad  to  see  ye  !  Come 
along !  "  said  the  officer,  grabbing  him  by  the  collar. 
The  policeman  was  old  and  stout,  Tom  was  young 
and  slim ;  he  had  an  engagement  for  ten  o'clock ;  and 
it  was  already  becoming  daylight.  In  answer  to  the 
officer's  questions,  he  told  the  truth ;  only  to  be 
answered  with  :  "  Likely  yarn  !  I  know  ye  !  Ye 
are  one  o'  them  Long  Wharf  gang !  I'll  get  more 
of  'em  yet !  Been  layin'  fer  you  fellers  for  a  month  ! " 

As  they  turned  a  corner,  Tom  saw  the  boarding- 
master  coming  toward  them  at  a  trot.  His  escape 
had  been  discovered.  A  happy  thought  struck  him. 
The  officer  said  he  had  been  "  laying  for  the  gang." 
Imitating  the  slang  of  the  guttersnipes,  Tom  ex- 
claimed:  "H — 1!  Dere's  Muggsey  himself." 

Having  distracted  the  officer's  attention,  he  "gave 
him  the  toe,"  broke  the  grip  on  his  collar,  and  darted 
back  in  the  direction  from  which  he  came.  "  Mugg- 
sey," attracted  by  the  scuffle,  ran  up  in  time  to  be 
arrested  by  the  indignant  officer  on  regaining  his 
feet.  "  Muggsey  "  received  the  benefit  of  the  police- 
man's experience  with  Tom,  and  was  safely  locked 
up ;  while  that  agile  young  man  made  his  way  to 
a  neighboring  boarding-house  whose  owner  was 
a  rabid  opponent  of  his  former  host.  Here  he  told 
as  much  as  was  necessary  of  the  night's  adventure 


A   FRIEND   AT   LAST  257 

and  was  received  like  a  returned  prodigal.  He  was 
clothed,  breakfasted,  offered  whiskey,  and  promised 
the  best  ship  in  port. 

Ten  o'clock  found  him  again  at  Mr.  Cartwright's 
office.  A  letter  was  handed  him  by  the  boy,  ad- 
dressed to  "  Captain  Henry  Bradford,  Bark  Barra- 
coota, Long  Wharf."  He  boarded  the  Barracoota 
and  inquired  for  the  captain.  A  boy  who  was 
sweeping  the  deck  told  him  "the  ole  man"  was 
below.  He  knocked  on  the  after-companion  slide 
several  times,  and,  receiving  no  answer,  pushed  it 
back,  descended  the  stairs,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 
Still  no  answer.  As  the  door  was  not  latched,  he 
pushed  it  ajar  and  looked  in.  Everything  was  at 
sixes  and  sevens.  The  lamp  was  burning  on  the 
table,  there  were  empty  glasses,  surrounded  by 
swarms  of  flies,  and  articles  of  clothing  all  about. 
He  rapped  again  on  the  inside  of  the  door. 

"  Is  Captain  Bradford  aboard  ? "  he  asked  in  a 
loud  voice. 

"  Yes,  Captain  Bradford  is  aboard,  but  he  ain't  got 
any  money.  Wait  till  next  voyage,"  came  in  muffled 
tones  from  somewhere. 

"  I  have  a  letter  from  Mr.  Cartwright,  sir,"  replied 
Tom. 

"All  right;  leave  it  there  and  clear  out." 

Tom  laid  the  letter  on  the  table  and  going  on  deck, 
took  a  survey  of  the  bark.  She  was  an  old  but 


258  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

stanch  vessel  of  four  or  five  hundred  tons  register.  A 
thousand  details  told  the  practical  seaman  that  she 
had  been  neglected.  Although  recently  returned, 
her  rigging  had  not  been  rattled  nor  tarred  for  an 
indefinite  time.  Stays  and  rigging  were  slack,  and 
her  paint  was  nearly  all  gone,  while  the  deck  looked 
more  like  a  barn  floor  than  a  ship's  deck.  While 
noting  these  shabby  details,  a  deep  voice  from  the 
companion  said :  - 

"  Hey  !  Who  are  you  ?  What  do  you  want  ?  Get 
out  o'  here  before  I  throw  you  overboard.  Come,  git! " 

Not  a  whit  rattled  by  this  warlike  declaration,  Tom 
stepped  up  to  the  handsome,  but  dissipated-looking 
young  giant  who  was  glaring  at  him  from  the  com- 
panion. 

"  Is  this  Captain  Bradford  ?  "  he  asked  politely. 

"  Yes,  this  is  Captain  Bradford.  You  didn't  sup- 
pose it  was  Commodore  Perry,  did  you  ?  " 

"I  just  left  a  letter  on  the  cabin  table  for  you,  sir." 

"  Oh,  was  it  you  left  that  letter  ?  Well  where  is 
—  what's  his  name  ?  " 

"Thomas  Benton,  sir?" 

"Yes;  I  believe  that's  it." 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir." 

"The  deuce  it  is  ?  Are  you  sent  down  here  to  go 
as  mate  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  believe  there  was  an  understanding  of  that  sort, 
sir,  though  I'm  not  sure." 


A   FRIEND   AT   LAST  2$9 

Captain  Bradford  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  blank 
surprise ;  then  he  started  off  across  the  deck,  swing- 
ing his  arms  and  exclaiming  :  — 

"Well,  I  swear!  Well,  I'll  be  hanged!  I  wonder 
what  he'll  send  me  next?  He's  getting  worse  and 
worse."  Returning  to  where  Tom  still  stood,  and 
glaring  at  him  fiercely,  he  asked :  "  Say,  bub,  what 
Sunday  School  grab-bag  did  old  Jabe  pull  you  out 
of  ?  " 

Tom  could  not  help  laughing.  He  knew  it  was 
his  youthful  appearance  to  which  the  captain  ob- 
jected, and  he  liked  the  bluff,  open  manner  in  which 
he  expressed  his  opinion. 

"  I  know  my  appearance  is  against  me,"  said  he, 
"  and  I  look  like  neither  mate  nor  cook.  But  I  have 
been  at  sea  as  long  as  I  can  remember,  and  have 
sailed  before  the  stick  in  some  of  the  hottest  old 
wagons  in  the  Western  Ocean.  The  reason  I  appear 
in  this  jury  rig  is  because  I  have  been  in  rather 
tough  luck  lately.  I  was  second  mate  of  the  Jane 
Sp  afford—  " 

"The  devil  you  were!  What  has  become  of  the 
old  ship  ? " 

"  The  last  I  saw  of  her,  she  was  floating  bottom  up 
about  three  hundred  miles  northeast  of  Trinidad." 

"  Capsized,  hey  ?  What  was  the  matter  ?  Squall 
catch  her  with  everything  set,  halliards  hitched  on 
the  pins,  and  so  forth  ?  " 


260  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  No,  sir  —  oh,  no.     Nothing  of  that  kind  at  all  - 

"  Well,  don't  let's  stand  here  talking.  Come  down 
below.  Boy!  Tell  the  cook  to  get  breakfast  along 
as  soon  as  he  can  —  breakfast  for  two." 

"  I  have  breakfasted,  thank  you,  captain,"  said 
Tom,  remembering  the  rigid  economy  on  shipboard 
in  regard  to  provisions. 

"  Never  mind ;  you  can  eat  a  bite  with  me.  Now 
what  will  you  try  for  a  bracer  ?  I  generally  take  a 
drop  of  Medford  first  thing  in  the  morning  to  freshen 
the  old  nip.  The  blamed  stuff  smells  like  bilge 
water,  so  if  I'm  able  to  keep  it  down,  I  know  I'm  in 
pretty  good  shape.  But  take  whatever  you  like. 
Here's  some  Martel  that  never  saw  a  custom-house 
officer  — 

"Thanks,  captain.     I'm  a  strict  teetotaler." 

"  Good  again !  I  sometimes  drink  more  than  I 
ought  to,  in  fact,  but  I  approve  of  teetotal  mates. 
Well,  if  I  must  go  it  alone,  why,  here's  to  a  better 
acquaintance." 

He  took  a  stiff  horn  of  rum  and  molasses,  making 
a  horrible  face  over  it ;  then  they  sat  down  to  break- 
fast. While  eating,  Tom  gave  his  new  commander 
a  short  account  of  the  loss  of  the  Spofford,  and  of 
his  adventures  since. 

Captain  Bradford  was  the  only  child  of  Mr.  Jabez 
Cartwright's  only  sister,  and  had  been  an  orphan 
since  his  tenth  year.  Mr.  Cartwright  took  charge 


A   FRIEND   AT   LAST  26 1 

of  him  at  his  mother's  death,  intending  to  give 
him  a  first-class  education,  and  train  him  as  a  busi- 
ness man  under' his  own  eye,  and  as  he  had  no  other 
near  relative,  it  was  presumed  that  young  Henry 
would  become  his  heir.  The  handsome,  generous 
boy  became  a  universal  favorite ;  but,  not  being  suf- 
ficiently strong-minded  to  resist  the  evil  influences  of 
his  flatterers,  he  frittered  away  both  his  own  time 
and  his  uncle's  money ;  he  neglected  his  studies, 
and  devoted  his  time  to  idle  pleasures.  The  taste 
for  liquor,  acquired  in  the  company  of  his  jolly  com- 
panions, eventually  mastered  him.  Mr.  Cartwright, 
hearing  so  many  adverse  reports,  set  a  watch  upon 
him,  and  when  convinced  that  the  habit  had  obtained 
a  hold  on  the  boy,  he  sent  him  to  sea.  Henry 
was  not  one  to  resist ;  if  his  uncle  had  ordered 
him  to  learn  blacksmithing,  he  would  have  tried  it 
cheerfully.  He  was  not  vicious ;  he  was  simply 
easy. 

When  the  ship  returned,  the  captain  had  nothing 
but  good  to  say  of  him.  He  was  smart  —  no  one 
had  ever  doubted  that ;  he  made  friends  of  all  with 
whom  he  came  in  contact,  and  the  entire  crew  — 
mates  and  all  —  swore  by  him.  He  liked  the  change 
and  excitement  of  sea  life,  and  as  it  kept  him  away 
from  liquor,  his  uncle  decided  to  let  him  make  it 
his  calling.  Not  desiring  to  punish  the  young  man 
for  a  mere  constitutional  weakness,  he  put  him  in 


262  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

command  of  the  old  Barracoota,  gave  him  a  veteran 
mate  to  take  care  of  him,  and  let  him  go. 

While  in  port  young  Henry  enjoyed  himself  after 
his  own  heart,  leaving  the  mate  to  play  captain ;  but 
when  the  pilot  boarded  her  he  resumed  command. 
As  he  never  carried  any  liquor  to  sea,  this  plan 
worked  very  well.  The  mate  kept  Mr.  Cartwright 
posted,  and  the  old  gentleman's  opinion  of  his  nephew 
gradually  changed  for  the  better.  Henry  knew  noth- 
ing of  this,  and  though  he  esteemed,  his  benefactor, 
he  acquired  a  habit  of  grumbling  to  his  cronies,  and 
accusing  the  old  gentleman  of  meanness.  At  last 
he  became  dissatisfied  with  the  old  bark.  He  never 
mentioned  the  matter  to  his  uncle,  but  he  thought 
he  should  have  been  given  one  of  the  fine  new  ships 
which  slid  from  the  ways  in  Mr.  Cartwright's  yard 
every  year. 

His  uncle  would  have  been  proud  to  see  the  young 
man  on  the  quarterdeck  of  the  finest  ship  that  flew 
his  house  flag  from  her  main  truck;  but  he  hardly 
dared  to  trust  him  yet. 

On  the  return  of  the  Barracoota  from  her  last 
voyage  the  command  of  a  ship  which  was  a  finer 
vessel  had  fallen  to  Henry's  mate, — -another  source 
of  disappointment  to  him.  Mr.  Cartwright  had  been 
sorely  puzzled  to  find  a  suitable  mate  to  send  with  his 
nephew,  but  when  Tom  told  of  bringing  his  father's 
ship  home  from  the  West  Indies  he  remembered  the 


A   FRIEND   AT   LAST  263 

circumstance,  and  also  the  name.  He  decided  that 
Tom  Benton  was  just  the  man  he  wanted ;  so  he 
sent  him  to  Henry  that  he  might  escape  from  lead- 
ing-strings, and  prove  his  worthiness  of  confidence. 

By  the  time  they  finished  breakfast  the  two  young 
men  had  decided  to  like  each  other  —  an  opinion  that 
never  changed. 

Tom  entered  upon  his  duties  at  once.  Captain 
Bradford  pressed  a  temporary  loan  upon  him  for 
his  immediate  wants,  and  before  they  sailed  he  saw 
that  Tom  was  equipped  with  everything  needful  to 
his  station. 

Tom  Benton  now  entered  upon  the  first  period 
of  prosperity  he  had  known  since  his  father's  death. 
He  sailed  as  mate  of  the  Barracoota  for  three  years. 
Under  his  care  she  became  a  very  different  looking 
vessel  from  what  she  was  when  he  first  saw  her. 
Without  relaxing  the  formalities  necessary  to  the 
maintenance  of  discipline,  he  and  Captain  Bradford 
became  like  brothers,  confiding  their  ambitions  and 
disappointments  to  each  other.  Though  Captain 
Bradford  had  never  become  deeply  attached  to  any 
woman,  alleging  that  he  loved  them  all  too  well  to 
discriminate  in  favor  of  any  particular  one,  he 
sympathized  with  Tom's  unfaltering  regard  for  the 
sweetheart  of  his  boyhood,  as  it  was  the  one  tie 
that  bound  him  to  the  human  race,  and  kept  him 
from  becoming  an  utter  barbarian.  He  encouraged 


264  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

his  young  mate  with  the  assurance  that  now  he  was 
in  the  way  to  fulfil  his  promise  to  Kitty  Blake. 

"  Uncle  Jabe  will  give  ships  to  everybody  but  me," 
he  added ;  "  see  what  a  fine  one  he  gave  old  Merritt 
after  sailing  with  me  only  two  years.  The  old  man 
don't  say  much,  Tom,  but  you  can  bet  he's  got  his 
eye  on  you,  and  knows  exactly  what  you  are  worth, 
to  a  cent,  and  when  he  gets  good  and  ready,  you'll 
get  your  ship." 

Uncle  Jabe  also  had  his  eye  on  Captain  Henry. 
Once  or  twice  he  almost  had  his  mind  made  up  to 
promote  him.  Then  he  would  hear  of  a  new  es- 
capade, and,  slowly  stroking  his  bejewelled  nose, 
he  would  say:  "I  guess  I'll  let  him  make  one  more 
voyage  in  the  Barracoota.  It  won't  hurt  him ;  he 
knows  her,  and  there's  plenty  of  time."  And  so  the 
comfortable  old  bark  would  sail  again,  in  charge  of 
the  two  friends. 

Sin  is  progressive.  Henry  Bradford  the  school- 
boy, shudderingly  took  a  sip  from  a  wine-glass ;  but 
there  came  a  time  when  his  name  was  mentioned 
in  consular  reports  and  diplomatic  correspondence. 
A  party  of  Christian  dogs — jolly  dogs,  no  doubt  — 
were  discovered  within  the  sacred  precincts  adjoin- 
ing the  harem  of  the  Grand  Turk  in  Constantinople. 
When  discovered,  they  soundly  drubbed  the  watch 
and  fled.  It  was  at  one  of  those  delicate  crises  in 
European  politics,  when  the  dignity  and  honor  of 


A   FRIEND   AT   LAST  265 

his  Sublime  Highness  was  a  matter  of  deep  concern 
to  the  old  lady  in  Threadneedle  Street.  Conse- 
quently, such  a  violation  of  international  courtesy 
could  not  be  overlooked.  The  name  of  Henry 
Bradford  was,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  mixed  up  in  the 
disgraceful  business. 

When  Mr.  Cartwright  heard  of  this  scandalous 
report,  he  ordered  his  nephew  to  appear  before 
him.  Although  the  captain  vehemently  denied  any 
complicity  in  the  scrape,  his  uncle  refused  to  believe 
him.  "You  were  there.  It's  just  like  you!"  he 
said,  and  ordered  him  off  to  Madras. 

"  Take  any  paying  freight  you  can  get  out  there, 
and  keep  away  from  the  States  until  you  are  com- 
pelled to  return  for  repairs  ;  while  I  endeavor  to 
settle  this  disgraceful  affair,"  were  his  orders. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

HOMEWARD  BOUND NELLIE  IS  SMITTEN HAVANA 

A   GALE    OFF    HATTERAS NEW   YORK OFF 

FOR  MONTREAL  AND  SCHOOL  —  A  CRASH  ON  THE 

ROAD KITTY   IS   LOST  • —  THE   HOME   OF   THE 

STAGGS A  THOROUGH  BUT  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH 

—  GIVEN  UP KITTY  STARTS  ON  A  SEARCH  FOR 

TOM 

WHEN  Tom  Benton  failed  to  return  to  the  English 
Minister's  for  dinner,  it  was  supposed  that  Mr. 
Spellman  had  detained  him  as  his  own  guest. 
Sir  John  was  introduced  to  the  ladies  at  table,  and 
the  story  of  how  he  came  so  near  being  shot  was 
briefly  told,  calling  forth  such  exclamations  as 
"  Oh  my  !  "  and  "  I  should  have  thought  you  would 
have  been  frightened  to  death  !  "  Kitty  told  Nellie 
when  they  retired  that  evening,  that  all  the  time 
she  was  listening  to  the  tale  of  Sir  John's  providen- 
tial rescue,  she  was  thinking  of  Tom  Benton,  and 
imagining  him  in  such  a  strait  with  no  one  to  help. 
She  succeeded  in  working  herself  into  a  very  uncom- 
fortable state  of  mind  over  this  purely  imaginary 
case,  but  Nellie  told  her  she  was  foolish  to  think  of 

266 


HOMEWARD    BOUND  267 

such  a  thing,  reminding  her  that  sailors  never  went 
so  far  inland ;  always  staying  near  the  sea  and 
their  ships. 

Sir  John,  having  complied  with  all  the  necessary 
legal  forms  to  perfect  his  claim  for  damages,  be- 
strode a  mule  and  rode  off,  leaving  the  matter 
entirely  in  Mr.  Lindsay's  hands  for  settlement. 
As  the  gallant  Englishman  was  too  bashful  to  be 
much  of  a  lady's  man,  he  was  nardly  missed.  Mr. 
Lindsay,  with  the  assistance  of  his  astute  nephew, 
conducted  the  affair  so  successfully  that,  at  the 
end  of  four  years,  a  very  satisfactory  indemnity 
was  awarded  ;  and  the  British  Lion,  who  had 
raised  his  head  and  cast  a  glance  of  impatient  in- 
quiry across  the  Atlantic,  lowered  his  muzzle  be- 
tween his  paws  and  dozed  again. 

Mr.  Druse,  having  concluded  his  business,  and 
remembering  several  other  irons  which  he  had  in  the 
fire,  asked  the  girls  how  much  longer  they  wished  to 
stay.  They  would  have  remained  indefinitely,  but 
school  would  open  shortly,  and  they  desired  to 
be  on  hand,  so  with  many  regrets  and  backward 
glances,  they  bade  good-bye  to  the  friends  they 
had  made,  and  turned  their  backs  on  the  beautiful 
land  where  they  had  passed  such  a  delightful  vaca- 
tion. They  reembarked  on  board  the  Albatross, 
which  awaited  them  with  sails  loose  and  anchor  atrip. 
Frank  Lindsay  bestowed  an  unnecessary  pressure  on 


268  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

the  hand  of  Nellie  Druse,  which  was  not  to  be  won- 
dered at;  for  in  Caracas,  home  faces  were  scarce, 
and  few  were  as  fair  as  hers.  Kitty  saw  the  quick 
glance  that  passed  between  them,  and  awoke  to  the 
fact  that  Nellie  had  matured  wonderfully  since  start- 
ing on  this  trip.  As  the  Albatross,  swinging  steadily 
along  with  the  trade  wind,  lulled  the  inseparables  to 
sleep  that  night,  Nellie,  under  cover  of  the  kindly 
darkness,  said  :  - 

"  Don't  you  think  Mr.  Frank  Lindsay  is  rather 
nice,  Kitty  ? " 

"Very  nice,  dear,"  Kitty  responded,  as  she  im- 
printed a  sympathetic  kiss  upon  the  fair  brow. 
Thus  was  born,  and  immaturely  died,  Nellie  Druse's 
first  love-affair. 

Again  the  Albatross  threaded  the  Windward  pas- 
sage and  crossed  the  Bahama  banks,  where  her  pas- 
sengers enjoyed  every  waking  moment.  They  spent 
hours  gazing  down  at  the  strange  objects  to  be  seen 
through  the  crystal  clear  water,  and  admired  the 
lovely  islets,  which,  like  miniature  Edens,  succeeded 
each  other  before  their  delighted  eyes.  Finally  they 
passed  under  the  frowning  walls  of  Morro  Castle, 
and  dropped  anchor  in  the  picturesque  harbor  of 
Havana,  "The  Queen  City  of  the  Antilles."  This 
stop  was  made  to  enable  Mr.  Druse  to  see  personally 
a  gentleman  with  whom  he  had  transacted  business 
for  thirty  years,  but  whom  he  had  never  met.  All 


HOMEWARD   BOUND  269 

hands  scurried  ashore  to  make  the  most  of  the  very 
limited  time  at  their  disposal.  They  drank  the  in- 
comparable coffee  which  is  to  be  obtained  at  any  of 
the  cafes  fronting  the  Plaza,  the  ladies  bought  guava 
jelly,  and  the  gentlemen  cigars.  They  took  one  of 
the  queer-looking  carnages,  and  drove  about  for  a 
couple  of  hours,  paying  their  respects  to  the  tomb 
of  Columbus,  as  all  good  Americans  should.  They 
were  careful  to  return  aboard  in  time  to  get  out  of 
the  harbor  before  sundown,  as  otherwise,  according 
to  the  ancient  custom  prevailing  so  near  the  land  of 
universal  liberty,  they  would  have  been  detained 
until  the  next  day. 

The  girls  were  disposed  to  grumble  as  they  cast 
longing  glances  back  at  the  bright-hued  houses. 
They  had  hardly  seen  Havana  at  all,  and  would  have 
liked  to  stay  a  week  ;  but  their  time  was  limited. 
They  now  dipped  into  the  Gulf  Stream,  that  grandest 
and  most  wonderful  of  all  the  great  ocean  rivers,  and 
with  a  fair  wind  and  under  blue  skies,  they  bade  a 
regretful  adieu  to  the  land  of  eternal  summer,  the 
garden  of  the  world,  the  ever-blooming  tropics. 

Off  Hatteras,  they  received  the  usual  salutation 
which  Boreas  deems  a  fitting  welcome  to  all  who 
approach  our  coast.  A  nor'wester  struck  the  Alba- 
tross butt  end  first,  blowing  some  of  her  old  fine 
weather  canvas  to  ribbons,  and  scaring  the  girls  half 
to  death ;  for  they  thought  they  were  surely  to  be 


2/0  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

wrecked.  They  marvelled  at  the  hardihood  of  the 
steward,  an  ungodly  old  sea-dog,  who  laughed  in 
their  faces  when  they  timidly  asked  if  he  thought 
there  was  much  danger.  But  long  before  the  gale 
blew  itself  out  Kitty  recovered  some  of  the  daring 
spirit  that  had  nearly  been  educated  out  of  her. 

Hanging  to  a  backstay,  she  watched  gleefully  the 
big  combers  that  rose  towering  far  above  the  rail.  On 
they  came  with  a  rush  which  it  seemed  that  not 
even  Gibraltar  could  withstand,  but  the  old  Albatross 
would  lift  her  head  saucily  and  glide  over  them  with- 
out an  effort.  Sometimes,  to  be  sure,  the  old  girl 
would  fail  to  calculate  just  right,  and  then  the  sea 
would  hit  her  a  thump  that  made  her  stand  still  and 
shudder,  while  every  timber  in  her  trembled.  The 
sailors  grabbed  the  nearest  rope  or  pin,  and  bent 
their  oilskin-clad  shoulders  to  receive  it.  Over  it 
would  come  in  tons ;  looking  a  clear  crystalline 
green  above  the  rail,  and  tumbling  in  a  cataract 
across  the  deck  to  leeward,  each  obstruction  to  its 
course,  such  as  hatches,  pumps,  harness,  casks,  etc., 
coming  into  prominence  as  the  centre  of  a  mimic 
cascade. 

Nellie  never  mustered  courage  to  come  on  deck 
during  the  gale ;  all  that  Kitty  could  persuade  her 
to  do  was  to  crawl  quaking  up  the  steps,  and  peep 
for  one  terrified  moment  to  leeward. 

The  gale  blew  them  a  hundred   miles   off  shore, 


HOMEWARD    BOUND  2/1 

and  then  blew  itself  out,  to  be  followed  by  a  fine 
whole-sail  breeze  from  the  southward  and  westward, 
which  took  them  right  into  New  York  harbor. 

Mr.  Druse  secured  accommodations  for  the  entire 
party  at  the  Astor  House.  New  York  was  not  the 
city  then  that  it  is  to-day ;  but  it  was  the  metropolis 
of  that  time,  and  to  most  of  our  party  a  very  wonder- 
ful place.  Though  Nellie  Druse  had  been  in  Lon- 
don, she  admired  the  American  city  as  much  as 
Kitty.  They  had  a  week  to  spare,  and  they  employed 
it  fully,  visiting  all  the  most  interesting  places  about 
the  city,  and  filling  in  odd  hours  with  that  never- 
failing  source  of  delight  to  the  feminine  mind,  be  it 
young  or  old,  shopping.  Not  necessarily  buying, 
just  shopping  —  pawing  over  the  beautiful  things 
in  the  big  stores  of  the  day,  to  their  hearts'  content. 
They  refurnished  their  own  wardrobes,  and  bought 
presents  galore  for  teachers  and  schoolmates. 

At  last,  the  day  that  always  comes  too  soon,  the 
day  to  say  good-bye,  arrived.  There  was  weeping 
and  wiping  of  red  noses.  The  old  ladies  bade  adieu 
to  their  darlings,  as  if  they  were  about  to  enter  an 
African  jungle  unarmed,  and  the  girls  made  all  the 
fuss  necessary  on  such  a  solemn  occasion.  The 
gentlemen,  including  young  Robert,  stood  apart  and 
chatted,  pretending  to  be  unaware  of  the  wet  spell 
so  near.  The  conductor  shouted  with  official  impor- 
tance :  "  All  aboard !  "  and  the  fireman  set  the  bell 


2/2  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

ringing.  There  was  a  flutter  in  the  dovecote,  during 
which  young  Robert  brazenly  kissed  both  girls  — 
who  took  no  notice  —  and  then  a  rush  for  the  cars, 
as,  in  a  more  peremptory  tone,  the  conductor  re- 
peated his  warning,  and  a  craning  of  necks  by  those 
on  the  platform,  in  their  efforts  to  see  their  friends 
within.  When  they  succeeded,  a  pantomime  of  nods 
and  grins  followed.  Sometimes  the  struggle  of  the 
imprisoned  ones  to  raise  a  window  was  successful ; 
then  the  farewell  addresses  were  repeated  as  long 
as  they  were  able  to  hear  each  other.  When  the  last 
petticoat  disappeared  up  the  car  step,  the  conductor 
waved  his  hand  in  a  lordly  manner  to  the  watching 
fireman,  who  said,  "  All  right!"  to  the  engineer,  and 
rang  the  bell  again.  The  engineer  took  a  final  glance 
down  the  yard  at  switches  and  signals,  and  carefully, 
so  as  not  to  slip  the  big  driving-wheels  or  jerk  the 
train,  worked  his  throttle  open.  A  jet  of  white 
steam,  whose  vicious  hissing  proclaimed  the  pressure 
in  the  great  boiler,  blew  horizontally  far  out  from 
the  open  cylinder  cocks,  slowly  the  wheels  began  to 
revolve,  and  the  Montreal  express  was  off.  Nine 
cars  —  the  last  three  sleepers,  the  sleepers  of  those 
days,  very  primitive  compared  with  the  wheeled 
palaces  of  to-day,  —  sagged  back  heavily  on  the 
engine. 

But   the    engineer   and  fireman    understood    their 
duties ;  better  yet,  they  understood  each  other.     No 


HOMEWARD   BOUND  273 

word  passed  between  them  on  the  wildly  rolling  en- 
gine. The  time  was  short,  the  train  was  heavy,  and 
the  best  efforts  of  all  concerned  would  be  needed  to 
get  it  to  its  destination  on  time.  It  would  go  a  little 
slow  up  the  long  hills,  and  time  would  be  lost,  but 
the  brow  of  the  hill  passed,  a  listener  in  the  train 
would  have  noticed  that  the  long,  heavy  "cha-a, 
cha-a  "  of  the  iron  horse  gradually  shortened  and 
quickened  until,  as  she  gathered  headway,  it  would 
become  "tucker  tucker  tucker,"  soon  to  be  blended 
into  a  faint  whirr,  and  then  lost  altogether,  which 
meant  that  she  was  then  flying  down  grade,  literally 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  regaining  as  much  as  pos- 
sible of  the  lost  time. 

The  girls  watched  the  monotonous  scenery  from 
the  car  window  until  it  wearied  them.  The  brown 
and  dreary  view  could  not  charm  eyes  which  had 
so  recently  feasted  on  the  royal  luxuriance  of  the 
tropics.  They  talked,  tried  to  read,  listened  to  the 
mournful  shriek  of  the  whistle  as  they  passed  road- 
crossings  or  flew  by  way-stations,  and  wished  their 
journey  over.  Evening  came  on ;  the  car  lamps 
were  lighted,  and  the  outer  world  obliterated  en- 
tirely. Now,  indeed,  the  time  hung  heavily.  They 
reviewed  the  pleasures  of  their  vacation,  and  finally 
settled  down  into  mutual  adulations  of  Tom  Benton 
and  Frank  Lindsay. 

Each  praised  the  other's  choice;  for,  though  Nellie 


2/4  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

had  never  seen  Tom,  Kitty's  approval  was  sufficient 
recommendation  for  her.  At  last  they  were  enjoying 
themselves,  having  hit  upon  a  topic  that  was  rich  in 
possibilities.  The  heavy  rolling  of  the  car  proved 
they  were  going  at  a  rapid  gait.  They  were  enjoying 
the  ride  now,  as  they  sat  with  their  arms  about  each 
other's  waists,  and  peeped  fearlessly  into  their  own 
rose-colored  future. 

There  was  a  crash,  the  lights  went  out,  the  two 
friends  were  violently  separated,  and  the  darkness 
was  filled  with  the  most  dreadful  shrieks. 

A  broken  flange  on  a  wheel,  a  rotten  tie,  or  a  loose 
fish-plate,  —  something,  —  had  derailed  the  train,  and 
thrown  it  down  a  fifteen-foot  bank.  The  engine  broke 
loose  from  its  train,  and  went  on ;  the  engineer,  with 
the  presence  of  mind  for  which  locomotive  engineers 
are  famous,  seeing  his  train  piling  itself  in  the  ditch, 
never  closed  his  throttle,  but  ran  to  the  next  station, 
nine  miles  away,  and  telegraphed  the  news  to  his 
superintendent.  He  received  orders  over  the  wire 
to  procure  all  the  medical  assistance  possible ;  to 
gather  a  force  of  laborers  —  all  that  could  be  ob- 
tained —  with  crowbars,  axes,  tackle,  chains,  and 
lanterns,  and  return  to  the  wreck. 

So  readily  did  the  people  respond,  and  so  well  did 
the  railroad  men  perform  their  part,  that  in  less  than 
forty  minutes  a  half-dozen  fairly  well  equipped  phy- 
sicians were  on  the  spot,  and  dozens  of  willing  hands 


HOMEWARD   BOUND  2/5 

were  chopping,  prying,  and  tearing  the  wreckage 
asunder  in  the  noble  work  of  relief.  Forty  minutes 
is  not  much ;  but  it  is  a  long  time  to  lie  in  helpless 
agony,  pinned  under  a  railroad  wreck.  During  these 
forty  minutes  many  willing  hands  had  been  at  work ; 
otherwise  the  relief  party  might  have  been  too  late, 
for  the  fire  from  lamps  and  car  stoves  would  have 
got  in  its  deadly  work. 

Fortunately  the  conductor  had  worked  on  that 
section  of  the  road  years  ago,  on  construction,  and 
knew  of  an  abandoned  well  near  the  track.  Fire 
buckets  were  fished  out  from  among  the  wreckage, 
bell  cord  was  unrove,  and,  under  the  conductor's 
instructions,  the  uninjured  passengers  formed  a 
bucket  brigade.  Wherever  a  curling  tongue  of 
smoke  made  its  appearance,  it  was  drowned  out 
at  once,  but  they  were  unable  to  respond  to  the 
piteous  cries  for  assistance  that  rose  all  about 
them.  The  urgent  danger  of  fire  must  first  be  at- 
tended to.  The  welcome  \vhistle  of  the  returning 
engine,  loaded  with  men  and  implements,  renewed 
their  courage,  and  as  the  rear  sleeper  had  remained 
on  the  track,  the  doctors  took  charge  of  it  and  con- 
verted it  into  a  field  hospital. 

Now,  indeed,  there  was  help  at  hand.  Car  win- 
dows and  doors  were  smashed,  roofs  torn  off,  and  the 
injured  taken,  as  soon  as  extricated,  to  the  hospital 
car.  It  was  a  heart-rending  sight.  We  can  stand 


2/6  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

with  a  semblance  of  equanimity  the  sight  of  a 
mangled  man,  but  we  do  not  like  our  mothers, 
wives,  or  sweethearts  to  be  thus  injured. 

Kitty  had  lost  consciousness  at  once.  Nellie  was 
thrown  against  the  roof  of  the  overturned  car,  and 
held  there  by  a  mass  of  broken  seats,  where  she 
screamed  in  unreasoning  fear  for  some  time,  and 
then  fainted.  After  clearing  away  some  of  the  de- 
bris, the  wreckers  found  Kitty,  and  she  was  taken  at 
once  to  the  hospital  car.  Several  other  victims 
were  removed,  and  thinking  the  cars  were  empty, 
the  workers  were  about  to  leave  when  one  of  them, 
holding  his  lantern  high  overhead,  looked  directly 
into  Nellie's  face.  In  removing  a  broken  seat  from 
her  ankle,  they  hurt  her  so  badly  that  she  regained 
her  senses. 

"Oh,  Kitty!"  she  cried.  "Where  is  Kitty?" 
As  they  carried  her  tenderly  out,  she  kept  calling  for 
Kitty.  "  I  want  my  Kitty  !  Where  is  my  Kitty  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  We'll  get  your  kitty  for  you,  little 
one,"  said  the  conductor,  soothingly,  supposing  her 
to  be  calling  in  her  delirium  for  a  household  pet. 

When  Nellie  arrived  at  the  hospital  car,  the 
dreadful  sights  caused  her  to  faint  again.  Finding 
her  only  hurt  to  be  a  fracture  of  the  left  leg,  the 
doctors  set  it,  and  rightly  guessing  from  her  delicate 
appearance  that  she  was  suffering  from  shock, 
they  ordered  her  taken  to  the  relief  train,  with 


HOMEWARD   BOUND  277 

instructions  to  send  her  home  as  soon  as  she  was 
able  to  make  her  destination  known. 

Kitty's  injuries  were  much  more  serious,  —  con- 
cussion of  the  brain,  and  possibly  a  fractured  skull. 
A  case  for  the  Albany  hospital.  In  the  hurry  and 
confusion  at  the  moment,  she  was  handed  over,  still 
unconscious  to  a  farmer,  Mr.  Ephraim  Stagg,  who 
had  just  notified  one  of  the  doctors  that  his  house 
was  at  the  disposal  of  the  medical  men  and  their 
patients.  The  gentlemen  thanked  him  hurriedly 
and  turned  away  to  attend  a  newly  arrived  case. 

Mr.  Stagg  and  his  maiden  sister,  Miss  Melinda, 
lived  on  a  rather  unproductive  farm  a  little  way 
back  from  the  railroad.  They  were  of  the  ordinary 
poor  farmer  class  to  whom  the  opportunity  of  mak- 
ing a  dollar  was  an  event.  They  were  good  hearted 
enough ;  but  too  poor  to  be  able  to  afford  the  virtue 
of  generosity,  therefore  Ephraim's  offer  to  the  doc- 
tor was  not  dictated  by  pure  sympathy.  People 
who  could  travel  must  have  money,  and  would  be 
able  to  pay  for  entertainment.  A  cow  which  had 
met  its  death  on  the  railroad  a  year  previously  had, 
besides  the  loss  of  herself,  plunged  them  into  expen- 
sive litigation  with  the  company.  The  suit  was  still 
pending  and  they  needed  money.  For  these  various 
reasons  Ephraim's  heart  palpitated  with  pleasure 
when  he  saw  what  a  richly  dressed  young  girl  had 
been  confided  to  his  care  by  the  railroad  men. 


2/8  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

On  his  arrival  home,  Miss  Melinda  —  a  bud  of 
forty-seven  springs  —  was  considerably  flustered. 
She  hastily  prepared  her  best  spare  room,  and  Kitty 
was  undressed  and  laid  on  the  soft,  sweet  corn-husk 
bed.  Early  in  the  morning,  as  soon  as  the  family 
doctor  returned  from  his  voluntary  service  at  the 
wreck,  he  was  summoned  to  the  Stagg  cottage.  He 
prescribed  perfect  rest  and  quiet,  saying  she  was 
a  strong,  healthy  young  woman,  and  would  un- 
doubtedly get  well.  Kitty  remained  under  the 
humble  roof  of  the  Staggs  for  nearly  three  months. 
She  recovered  entirely  from  the  physical  effects  of 
the  accident,  but  her  mind  was  extremely  hazy,  and 
her  memory  almost  entirely  gone.  She  was  also 
no  longer  the  robust  Kitty  of  former  days,  but  was 
frail  and  weak.  To  their  credit  be  it  said,  the  lonely 
elderly  couple  became  attached  to  the  gentle  girl  and 
hoped  no  one  would  ever  claim  her. 

At  last  Nellie  was  sent  on  to  Albany,  where 
a  representative  of  the  company  telegraphed  Miss 
Lavinia  Randolph  of  the  predicament  of  her  pupil. 
"  Would  she  come  or  send  some  one  at  the  company's 
expense  ? " 

Miss  Lavinia  would  not  think  of  sending  any  one 
on  such  an  important  and  delicate  mission,  but  came 
herself.  The  meeting  between  teacher  and  pupil 
was  most  affecting,  and  when  Nellie  sobbed  out  the 
story  of  Kitty's  disappearance,  Miss  Randolph  be- 


HOMEWARD   BOUND  2/9 

came  nearly  distracted.  She  appealed  at  once  to 
the  railroad  officials ;  the  superintendent,  however, 
declared  that  the  wreck  was  all  cleared  up,  and 
everybody  accounted  for.  He  suggested  that  Kitty 
had  probably  escaped  uninjured  and  had  been  taken 
away  by  friends.  This  explanation  was  of  course 
rejected,  both  by  Miss  Randolph  and  Nellie,  as 
Kitty  had  no  friends  on  the  train  or  in  the  state. 

There  was  absolutely  no  information  to  be  obtained 
in  Albany,  so  they  returned  as  soon  as  possible  to 
Montreal,  where  Nellie  was  subjected  to  most  care- 
ful and  tender  nursing,  with  the  result  that  she  was 
soon  entirely  recovered. 

When  the  Albatross  arrived  in  Portland,  a  long 
telegram  told  her  passengers  of  the  wreck  and  of  the 
unaccountable  disappearance  of  Kitty.  Mr.  Druse 
chartered  a  special  train,  and  the  entire  party  went 
to  Montreal  to  get  the  story  from  Nellie's  own  lips. 
They  learned  so  little  there,  that  they  proceeded  to 
Albany.  The  railroad  officials  were  closely  ques- 
tioned, but  were  unable  to  throw  any  light  upon  the 
subject.  Detectives  were  placed  upon  the  case,  who 
scoured  the  country  far  and  near,  and  even  visited 
Ephraim  Stagg's  dilapidated  cottage  half-way  up 
the  mountain  side.  As  they  were  working  on  the 
theory  that  the  young  lady  had  been  abducted  for 
the  purpose  of  extorting  a  reward,  they  asked  no 
questions;  and,  as  Kitty  timidly  avoided  all  strangers, 


280  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

they  failed  to  find  her.  As  a  last  resort,  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  offered  a  large  reward  for  information  that 
would  lead  to  her  recovery  ;  but  as  the  Staggs  never 
saw  a  newspaper,  they  knew  nothing  of  it. 

At  last,  worn  out  and  heartbroken,  the  Haywards 
returned  to  Portland,  and  Mr.  Druse,  after  cautioning 
Miss  Randolph  never  to  lose  sight  of  his  ewe  lamb 
for  a  moment,  returned  to  the  endless  business  of 
piling  sovereigns  one  upon  another.  Disastrous 
indeed  had  been  the  aftermath  of  the  pleasant 
vacation. 

Kitty's  mental  faculties  gradually  improved  as  her 
bodily  strength  increased ;  but  they  were  oddly  dis- 
torted. Her  entire  past  life  had  escaped  her  mem- 
ory, or  appeared  in  such  a  fragmentary  manner  that 
she  was  unable  to  gather  it  into  a  coherent  whole. 
She  answered  readily  to  the  name  of  Sarah,  be- 
stowed upon  her  by  her  new  friends.  She  knew  it 
was  not  hers,  but  in  the  maze  of  her  troubled  brain 
she  was  unable  to  disentangle  her  own  name,  so  she 
accepted  it  with  a  sense  of  weariness,  as  being  good 
enough. 

There  was  one  subject  that  stood  out  bright  and 
clear  to  her  dimmed  mind,  and  that  was  that  she 
must  find  Tom  Benton  and  return  to  him  twelve  thou- 
sand dollars,  of  which,  in  some  way  that  she  failed  to 
remember,  she  had  robbed  him.  This  strange  notion 
she  kept  to  herself.  As  the  Staggs  had  never  seen 


HOMEWARD    BOUND  28 1 

her  in  perfect  health,  they  now  supposed  her  to 
have  fully  recovered  and,  as  they  dreaded  the  day 
of  parting,  they  never  mentioned  the  subject,  suppos- 
ing she  would  notify  them  when  ready  to  go.  Miss 
Melinda,  with  almost  reverent  care,  cleaned  and 
repaired  Kitty's  clothing.  She  had  never  seen  such 
rich  fabrics  and  dainty  articles  of  apparel  in  her  life. 
She  laid  the  soft  velvets  to  her  wrinkled  cheek,  and 
passed  her  rough  hands  caressingly  over  the  rich 
silks  which  rustled  deliciously  under  them,  but 
caught  on  her  toil-worn  fingers  as  though  they  were 
burrs. 

Sometimes,  to  please  her  friend,  Kitty  would  dress 
herself,  and  by  the  crinkly  glass  in  the  little  parlor, 
arrange  her  hair  as  she  had  always  worn  it.  These 
occasions  were  a  rare  treat  to  Miss  Melinda,  giving 
her  a  clear  insight  into  many  things  which  she  had 
never  been  able  to  understand.  There  were  twenty- 
seven  dollars  and  some  change  in  the  little  pocket- 
book,  and  this  she  insisted  that  Kitty  should  keep 
in  her  own  room. 

There  was  to  be  a  great  awakening  at  the  Meth- 
odist Church  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain.  A 
professional  exhorter  had  arrived  who  was  to  arouse 
the  whole  countryside.  'His  fame,  with  exaggerated 
accounts  of  the  multitudes  of  souls  he  had  been  in- 
strumental in  saving,  had  travelled  before  him,  so 
that,  when  the  great  day  arrived  on  which  he  was  to 


282  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

open  on  the  enemy's  works  in  Ashton,  the  people 
flocked  for  miles  around.  If  the  Staggs  were  igno- 
rant, they  were  devoutly  pious.  The  advent  of  this 
powerfully  gifted  man  was  an  epoch  in  their  quiet 
lives,  and  they  would  no  more  have  thought  of  miss- 
ing the  meeting,  than  declining  the  summons  of  the 
last  trump.  They  were  grieved  to  note  an  utter 
absence  of  enthusiasm  in  Sarah,  but  she  said  she  did 
not  care  to  go,  and  they  would  not  force  her  to  do  so. 
No  sooner  had  the  bony  sorrel  horse  and  rickety 
shay  disappeared  round  the  corner  of  the  unpainted 
barn,  than  Sarah  carefully  dressed  herself  in  her  own 
clothes.  She  wrote  a  note  thanking  her  friends  for 
all  they  had  done  for  her  and  begging  them  to  for- 
give this  act  of  apparent  ingratitude,  telling  them  she 
was  going  on  an  errand  of  justice  and  promised  to  re- 
turn when  it  should  be  completed.  Then  she  covered 
the  fire  with  ashes  so  that  it  might  keep  till  their  re- 
turn, and  remembering  that  they  did  not  expect  to 
get  back  until  after  dark,  she  lit  the  lamp.  She  en- 
closed a  ten-dollar  bill  in  the  note  and  placed  it  con- 
spicuously near  the  lighted  lamp.  Closing  the  door 
carefully,  and  taking  a  farewell  glance  round  the 
humble  but  pleasant  home,  she  started  on  her  five- 
mile  walk  over  the  spur  of  the  mountain  to  the  rail- 
road station  of  which  she  had  heard,  but  which  she 
had  never  seen.  It  was  a  weary  road,  and  she  was 
not  accustomed  to  long  walks ;  but  fortifying  herself 


HOMEWARD   BOUND  283 

with  the  thought  that  she  was  going  to  find  Tom  and 
return  his  money,  she  persevered,  holding  up  her 
skirts  and  picking  her  way  that  she  might  not  pre- 
sent a  bedraggled  appearance. 

She  arrived  at  last,  footsore  and  weary,  with  a 
bursting  headache  and  on  the  point  of  collapse,  but 
thankful.  As  she  had  an  hour  to  wait  for  a  New 
York  train,  she  crossed  the  track  to  a  small  hotel  and 
sensibly  strengthened  herself  with  a  hearty  meal. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

MADRAS CAPTAIN  BRADFORD  CUTS  A  DASH DEATH 

OF  MR.   CARTWRIGHT MATRIMONY  IN   THE   AIR — 

THE  "BARRACOOTA"  BECOMES  A  COUNTRY  WALLAH 
-  THE    WIDOW BOMBAY CAPTAIN    BRADFORD 

MARRIES      AND      GIVES      THE      SHIP      TO      TOM BAD 

WEATHER A    GREAT  '  WATERSPOUT THE    ANCIENT 

WRECK COPPER  BARS  —  NEPTUNE'S   FATE GOLD 

AFTER  an  uneventful  passage  Captain  Bradford 
arrived  at  Madras  with  the  old  Barracoota,  left  Tom 
in  charge,  and  took  up  his  residence  in  Blacktown, 
where,  as  he  was  handsome,  brilliant,  and  free-handed, 
the  young  Yankee  skipper  became  a  valuable  acquisi- 
tion to  the  somewhat  jaded  English  colony.  Tom 
notified  the  captain  when  the  cargo  was  out,  and 
received  orders  to  keep  the  crew  busy  until  he  heard 
from  him  again.  Nearly  a  month  elapsed,  and  Tom 
began  to  worry,  for  he  feared  his  friend  was  over- 
doing it,  and  would  get  himself  into  further  trouble. 
The  butcher's  boat  came  off  regularly,  keeping  them 
well  supplied  with  fresh  provisions,  and  all  hands 
were  fat  and  hearty.  About  six  weeks  after  their 
arrival  the  Oriental,  of  the  same  line,  dropped  anchor 

284 


MATRIMONY   IN  THE  AIR  285 

within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  Barracoota.  Tom 
boarded  her  at  once,  and  learned  from  Captain  Jermyn 
that  Mr.  Cartwright  had  died,  cutting  off  his  nephew, 
Captain  Bradford,  with  a  dollar.  Tom  was  deeply 
grieved,  for  he  liked  his  large-hearted  captain,  though 
he  deprecated  his  wild  course.  He  gave  Captain 
Jermyn  as  little  information  as  possible,  and,  telling 
him  that  Captain  Bradford  was  staying  on  shore, 
gave  him  his  address.  Next  morning  Captain  Brad- 
ford came  off  bright  and  early.  He  was  excited  and 
angry.  Calling  Tom  into  the  cabin,  he  closed  the 
door,  and,  turning  to  him  with  flashing  eyes,  he  said:  — 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  Tom  ?  What  do  you 
think  of  the  miserly  old  skinflint  ?  He  has  cut  me 
off  with  a  dollar,  after  deluding  me  into  sailing  this 
old  woodpile  all  these  years.  If  I  hadn't  expected 
to  get  his  money,  do  you  suppose  I'd  have  put  up 
with  it  as  long  as  I  have?  No,  sir!  I've  eaten 
more  humble  pie  to  please  that  old  villain  than  any 
white  man  ever  ought  to !  Serves  me  right,  too ! 
If  I'd  stood  up  to  him  a  little  better,  I  guess  he'd 
have  thought  more  of  me.  Hang  him,  I  say !  This 
news  couldn't  have  come  at  a  worse  time  if  he'd 
planned  it.  But  never  you  mind;  I'll  land  her  yet! 
See  if  I  don't." 

Here  he  ceased  pounding  on  the  table  and  raving 
long  enough  to  toss  off  a  glass  of  rum  and  water. 
Then,  feeling  somewhat  revived,  he  continued  :  — 


286  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  I  was  working  a  good  scheme  here,  Tom. 
There's  a  lady  ashore,  a  major's  widow,  Mrs. 
Hargrave,  who  is  worth  stacks  and  stacks  of  ru- 
pees; she  has  indigo  and  tea  plantations,  town 
houses  in  all  the  principal  cities,  bungalows  in  all 
the  most  desirable  country  places,  and  the  Lord 
knows  what  all ;  and  she's  a  fine  woman,  too,  a 
regular  English  aristocrat.  I've  been  shining  up 
to  her,  and  was  making  splendid  progress.  Of 
course  I  let  it  be  known  that  I  was  the  old  man's 
heir;  and  I  had  just  about  got  ready  to  pop  the 
question  when  in  conies  Jermyn  with  this  infernal 
news.  It  will  be  all  over  Blacktown  in  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  if  I'm  not  awfully  mistaken  my 
cake  is  dough.  Hang  it  all,  it's  enough  to  drive 
a  man  to  drink.  Hand  me  that  brandy !  " 

Tom,  whose  knowledge  of  women  was  confined 
to  his  silent  worship  of  a  boyish  memory,  had,  per- 
haps, an  exaggerated  idea  of  the  sacredness  of  the 
tender  passion.  Hearing  his  captain  run  on  in  this 
sacrilegious  manner,  he  asked  :  — 

"  Do  you  love  the  lady,  sir  ?  " 

"Do  I  love  her?  Hear  him!  Why,  Tom,  I 
loved  her  before,  but  I  worship  her  now !  Who 
could  help  loving  such  a  woman  ?  Don't  you  sup- 
pose I'd  rather  live  in  a  nice  airy  bungalow  on  an 
Assam  tea  plantation,  with  servants  to  hand  you  the 
brandy  and  water  pawnee  lao,  and  brush  off  the  flies. 


MATRIMONY   IN  THE   AIR  287 

wear  a  cork  hat  and  white  linen  clothes,  and  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  play  gentleman  all  the  year  round, 
than  to  eat  salt  horse  and  fight  cockroaches  in  this  old 
hooker?  If  she  were  ninety,  I'd  love  her!  But  she 
isn't ;  she's  a  fine,  well-preserved  woman  of  thirty-five, 
—  not  a  day  over  that,  —  a  little  stout  and  red  in 
the  face,  you  know,  but  that's  the  climate  ;  you  can't 
expect  a  woman  to  live  in  India  twenty  years  and 
bury  two  husbands  without  showing  the  effects  of 
wear  and  tear.  It's  better  than  if  she  were  yellow 
and  shrivelled,  —  most  of  'em  get  that  way.  Oh,  but 
I  forgot  to  tell  you ;  I've  chartered  the  old  ship  to 
her  brother-in-law  for  a  six-months  coasting  voyage. 
We  won't  get  much  stuff  here ;  it  will  be  all  aboard 
this  week,  and  they  will  go  with  us  as  passengers." 

"Who,  sir?" 

"  Why,  Hargrave  and  his  sister-in-law.  She  wants 
to  see  some  property  she  bought  awhile  ago  in 
Trincomalee,  so  she  takes  this  opportunity.  I  let  her 
have  the  passage  cheap,  and  being  a  shrewd  business 
woman,  that  appealed  to  her.  I  hope  to  land  her 
before  the  voyage  is  up.  Once  I  get  her  away 
from  that  Scotch  colonel  who  is  always  hanging 
round  her,  I  think  —  I  hope,  at  least — I'll  be  all 
right.  Hargrave  and  I  are  great  chums ;  that's  one 
point  in  my  favor  —  I've  cultivated  him  !  " 

Tom  was  far  from  pleased  with  this  news.  Pas- 
sengers —  especially  lady  passengers  —  are  not  re- 


288  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

garded  favorably  as  a  rule  by  sailors,  nor  was  he 
pleased  with  the  flippant  manner  in  which  Captain 
Bradford  spoke  of  the  woman  whom  he  was  so  de- 
sirous of  marrying. 

Five  days  later,  having  received  all  the  cargo  they 
were  to  get  in  Madras,  and  the  passengers  and 
baggage  being  safely  stowed  below,  they  sailed  for 
Pondicherry.  Tom  was  introduced  to  the  passen- 
gers at  dinner,  and  found  Mr.  Ernest  Hargrave, 
a  portly  gentleman  of  fifty,  very  much  to  his  liking. 
The  widow,  he  at  once  decided,  had  not  understated 
her  age.  She  was  undeniably  stout,  also  quite  red 
in  the  face,  but,  in  spite  of  these  physical  drawbacks, 
she  proved  on  better  acquaintance  to  be  not  only 
ladylike,  but  extremely  good  company.  She  was 
not  a  bit  fussy  nor  troublesome,  but  jolly  and  com- 
panionable, and  possessed  of  rare  tact  which  pre- 
vented her  from  ever  being  in  the  way.  Tom  was 
glad  to  see  that,  in  spite  of  Captain  Bradford's 
frivolous  manner  when  speaking  of  her  in  Madras, 
he  was  deeply  in  love  with  her  and  appreciated  her 
superiority.  They  remained  but  one  day  in  Pondi- 
cherry. From  there  they  went  to  Negapatam, 
where,  without  anchoring,  they  discharged  what 
little  cargo  they  had  for  the  agent,  took  in  a  few 
bales  of  jute,  and  proceeded  to  Trincomalee. 

Here  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hargrave  insisted  that 
Captain  Bradford  should  accompany  them  ashore 


MATRIMONY   IN  THE  AIR  289 

on  their  trip  to  the  interior  to  inspect  the  lady's  pur- 
chase. It  is  needless  to  say  he  was  easily  per- 
suaded. Tom  was  again  left  in  charge.  Once  more 
the  old  Barracoota  swung  idly  at  her  anchor  for  a 
solid  month,  and  when  the  explorers  returned,  there 
were  three  days  of  hard  work  taking  in  the  cargo 
Mr.  Hargrave  had  bought  up  country  and  brought 
down  with  him.  From  here  they  made  short  stops 
at  Batikala,  Matma,  and  Kaltura.  As  Captain  Brad- 
ford paid  but  little  attention  either  to  the  handling 
of  the  ship  or  the  cargo,  Tom  took  his  orders 
from  Mr.  Hargrave  and  attended  to  everything ; 
while  the  lovers  cooed  in  peace  and  contentment. 

When  they  arrived  in  Colombo,  it  was  known  that 
the  lady  would  leave  the  ship.  Mr.  Hargrave  was 
too  thorough  an  Anglo-Indian  to  allow  business  to 
interfere  with  pleasure,  and  both  his  sister-in-law 
and  himself  had  numerous  friends  in  the  Cingalese 
metropolis,  the  result  being  that  another  long  rest 
was  taken  here ;  while  Captain  Bradford  enjoyed 
himself  on  shore  with  his  friends  and  their  friends 
and  acquaintances. 

As  Captain  Bradford  did  not  confide  the  result  of 
his  courtship  to  Tom,  he  had  no  positive  knowledge 
regarding  its  success.  The  captain's  behavior  was 
so  contradictory  that  it  was  impossible  to  judge  by 
it;  sometimes  he  appeared  in  the  very  best  of 
spirits,  and  again  he  would  be  down  in  the  dumps, 


290  TOM    BENTON'S   LUCK 

Tom,  being  entirely  ignorant  of  the  symptoms  of  his 
disease,  found  it  impossible  to  diagnose  his  captain's 
case.  He  would  no  sooner  decide  to  venture  a 
congratulatory  remark,  than  the  captain  would  ap- 
pear on  deck  with  a  visage  so  woebegone  that  he 
wondered  how  he  could  have  deceived  himself  into 
believing  this  poor  human  wreck  a  happy  and 
successful  lover. 

The  captain  now  resumed  charge  and  drove  the 
old  ship  as  though  he  was  competing  for  an  inter- 
national cup.  After  diving  into  all  sorts  of  little 
holes  in  the  bushes  alongshore,  their  time  expired 
in  Batangiri.  Mr.  Hargrave  offered  to  renew  the 
charter  for  another  six  months,  but  Captain  Brad- 
ford declined.  There  were  a  few  tons  of  cargo  in 
the  hold  to  be  delivered  in  Bombay,  so  he  said  he 
would  go  there  and  secure  a  charter  for  Europe  or 
the  States.  As  Mr.  Hargrave  had  some  business 
to  transact  along  the  coast,  they  regretfully  bade  the 
jovial  gentleman  adieu  and  left  him  behind. 

The  anchor  was  no  sooner  down  in  Bombay  roads, 
than  the  captain  hailed  a  dinghy,  and,  telling  Tom 
he  would  send  a  lighter  off  for  the  cargo,  went 
ashore.  A  week  later  he  sent  off  a  shore  boat  with 
a  note  requesting  Tom  to  meet  him  at  the  hotel. 
Wondering  what  was  up,  Tom  shipped  his  shore 
togs,  and  after  giving  the  second  mate  instructions 
to  keep  a  sharp  lookout,  went  ashore. 


MATRIMONY   IN  THE  AIR  29 1 

The  dinghy  wallah  piloted  him  to  the  hotel,  on 
the  spacious  veranda  of  which  he  found  his  captain 
and  Mrs.  Hargrave  enjoying  the  cool  evening  air. 
He  observed  that  the  widow  had  emerged  from  her 
mourning,  and  was  very  becomingly  dressed  in 
a  light  costume.  When  Tom  approached,  Captain 
Bradford  rose,  blushed  a  bit  awkwardly,  and  taking 
the  lady's  hand  said :  — 

"  Mrs.  Bradford,  allow  me  to  introduce  Captain 
Benton,  of  the  Barracoota.  You  have  met  before, 
I  believe." 

It  was  now  Tom's  turn  to  blush.  His  unexpected 
promotion,  so  suddenly  announced,  together  with  his 
desire  to  acquit  himself  creditably  in  congratulating 
the  happy  pair,  nearly  threw  him  on  his  beam  ends. 
He  righted  himself,  however,  with  an  effort,  and 
congratulated  them  heartily.  The  ci-devant  widow 
received  his  good  wishes  with  evident  pleasure,  and 
the  captain  with  an  assumed  air  of  indifference  which 
deceived  nobody. 

They  told  Tom  they  had  been  married  less  than 
two  hours,  and  had  sent  for  him  to  dine  with  them. 
During  this  most  enjoyable  dinner  Captain  Bradford 
told  Tom  that,  as  his  wife  objected  to  his  going  to 
sea  again,  he  should  hand  the  ship  over  to  him.  He 
had  obtained  a  freight  for  her  from  Mocha  to  Liver- 
pool ;  and  he  might  sail  as  soon  as  he  could  get  his 
ballast  in. 


292  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bradford  dined  with  Captain  Benton 
on  board  the  Barracoota  two  days  later,  and  on  leav- 
ing the  ship  they  wished  him  a  hearty  "Bon  voyage" 
Captain  Bradford  explained  to  the  crew  that  he  had 
given  the  command  of  the  ship  to  Tom,  and,  as  they 
could  see  a  hole  in  a  ladder  as  well  as  the  next  man, 
they  gave  three  rousing  cheers  for  him  and  his  lady. 
The  courtesy  was  acknowledged  by  Mrs.  Bradford, 
who  bought  the  entire  contents  of  a  bumboat  that 
happened  to  be  alongside,  and  presented  it  to  them ; 
and  amid  more  cheering  and  waving  of  hats  the 
happy  pair  left  the  old  ship  forever.  Tom's  elation 
at  his  promotion  was  tempered  by  regret  at  the  loss 
of  his  companion.  They  had  sailed  together  a  long 
time,  and  though  there  were  many  traits  in  Captain 
Bradford's  character  of  which  Tom  did  not  approve, 
he  had  always  been  a  steadfast  friend. 

The  next  morning,  at  four  o'clock,  the  Barracoota 
sailed  from  Bombay.  Tom  Benton  was  now  master, 
but  he  had  not  yet  accomplished  what  he  promised 
Kitty  Blake  that  day,  so  long  ago,  in  Portland.  He 
was  master,  but  he  was  only  a  hired  man ;  he  did 
not  own  a  cent's  worth  in  the  ship,  nor  was  she  the 
kind  of  vessel  he  had  in  his  mind's  eye  when  he 
said  so  proudly  to  Kitty :  "  I'll  not  come  back  until 
I  command  as  fine  a  ship  as  ever  your  father  did." 

Now  that  he  was  captain  it  did  not  seem  such  a 
dizzy  height  as  he  had  once  thought  it  would,  and 


MATRIMONY   IN  THE  AIR  293 

no  wonder.  As  he  glanced  about  the  old  Barracoota, 
ramshackled  and  weather-worn,  with  the  evidences 
of  her  twenty-five  years'  combat  with  the  elements 
registered  indelibly  on  every  square  inch  of  her,  he 
knew  that  she  would  never  astonish  the  natives  of 
Portland.  He  knew  that  crabbed  old  Rufus  Blake 
would  never  be  overwhelmed  by  the  grandeur  of 
the  position  occupied  by  her  captain.  Besides,  he 
had  no  assurance  that  the  new  owners  would  confirm 
his  appointment.  It  might  be  a  repetition  of  the 
Columbia  case ;  so  he  resolved  not  to  plume  himself 
too  much  on  his  sudden  rise.  Experience  had  taught 
him  that  his  very  next  voyage  might  be  in  the  fore- 
castle. 

Captain  Bradford's  marriage  recalled  Kitty  forcibly 
to  his  mind.  He  longed  to  see  her,  and  wondered 
where  she  was  now,  and  if  she  still  remembered  him, 
and  if  they  would  ever  meet  again.  And  so,  dream- 
ing and  building  castles,  alternately  hoping  and  fear- 
ing, unconsciously  indulging  in  the  same  mental 
flagellations  that  had  so  disturbed  Captain  Bradford's 
serenity  after  parting  with  his  lady-love  at  Colombo, 
the  new  captain  paced  his  quarterdeck,  and  the  old 
Barracoota,  indifferent  as  to  who  commanded  her, 
bobbed  serenely  through  the  blue  waters  of  the 
Indian  Ocean. 

It  was  the  season  of  the  change  of  the  monsoons, 
when  the  weather  is  entirely  unreliable.  Tom,  feel- 


294  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

ing  the  weight  of  his  new  responsibilities,  remained 
on  deck  nearly  all  the  time.  He  watched  the 
weather  closely,  but  for  some  time  the  most  he  had 
to  contend  with  were  light  baffling  winds,  squalls,  and 
calms.  For  several  days  he  failed  to  get  an  obser- 
vation on  account  of  the  weather,  and  as  the  dead 
reckoning  showed  her  to  be  making  more  westing 
than  was  desirable,  he  was  not  surprised  one  morn- 
ing when  he  discovered  land  to  the  westward  which 
he  knew  to  be  the  island  of  Socotra. 

The  weather  was  detestable.  The  sky  was  ob- 
scured by  low-hanging,  heavy  black  clouds ;  the 
wind  came  in  scarcely  perceptible  whiffs,  —  usually 
catching  her  aback,  —  and  it  was  terribly  hot  and 
sultry.  Toward  noon  Captain  Benton  observed, 
away  to  the  southward,  a  small  waterspout.  Inside 
of  an  hour  there  were  half  a  dozen  of  them  in  sight ; 
none  very  near,  but  they  helped  to  increase  his  anx- 
iety. The  ship  lay  entirely  becalmed  while  the  vi- 
cious little  spouts  travelled  about,  each  the  centre  of 
its  own  corkscrew  breeze.  As  he  was  utterly  power- 
less to  get  away  from  them,  he  could  only  hope  they 
would  miss  him,  for,  even  though  they  failed  to 
board  and  swamp  her,  one  of  them  might  easily  pass 
so  close  as  to  whip  the  sticks  out  of  her. 

They  increased  in  number  and  drew  nearer  as  the 
day  wore  on,  until,  with  the  low-hanging  cloud  roof 
and  these  numerous  slanting  and  twisted  pillars  of 


MATRIMONY   IN  THE  AIR  2Q5 

water,  the  scene  took  on  somewhat  the  appearance 
of  a  goblin  forest.  The  sea,  from  the  effects  of  so 
many  varied  forces  at  work  upon  it,  began  to  re- 
semble the  surface  of  a  boiling  caldron ;  tossing  the 
old  ship  about  in  a  most  disconcerting  manner,  so 
that  several  of  the  men,  seasoned  shellbacks,  became 
seasick.  Sometimes  a  spout,  as  if  in  a  spirit  of  spor- 
tive deviltry,  would  come  tearing  down  toward  the 
Barracoota  until  the  green  veining  of  the  whirling 
mass  of  water  was  plainly  discernible  from  the  deck. 
Then,  for  no  apparent  reason,  it  would  be  suddenly 
deflected,  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  go  roaring 
away  to  one  side ;  while  sails,  ropes,  and  blocks 
rattled  and  flapped  thunderously  in  the  tangle  of 
the  contrary  air  currents. 

The  most  apparent  effect  of  these  assaults  was  that 
the  ship  was  being  gradually  forced  over  toward  the 
eastern  coast  of  Socotra. 

As  the  young  captain  peered  anxiously  about  him, 
first  at  the  threatening  land,  and  then  at  those  eccen- 
tric shafts  of  whirling  water  on  whose  next  move- 
ment it  was  idle  to  speculate,  he  wondered  what 
witch's  curse  it  was  that  pursued  him.  In  all  his 
seagoing  he  had  never  seen  a  similar  case ;  the  in- 
stant he  got  command,  it  seemed  that  the  elements 
conspired  to  produce  some  new  and  unheard-of  com- 
bination to  deprive  him  of  it.  Was  this  to  be  the 
end  of  his  career  as  captain  ?  While  thus  bitterly 


296  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

ruminating  on  the  ill  luck  which  seemed  to  pursue 
him  so  relentlessly,  his  attention  was  drawn  to  three 
unusually  large  spouts  away  on  the  starboard  quarter. 
A  very  short  inspection  showed  them  not  only  to  be 
drawing  together,  but  also  nearing  the  Barracoota 
with  terrific  speed,  and  Captain  Benton  calculated 
that  they  would  just  about  meet  on  her  deck.  After 
that  his  interest  in  them  would  cease. 

He  watched  their  approach  gloomily,  his  whole 
soul  raging  with  helpless  anger.  Tradition  says  that 
a  cannon-shot  will  burst  a  waterspout.  It  might 
as  well  have  said  a  broadside  of  Koh-i-noors,  as  far  as 
the  Barracoota  was  concerned ;  she  was  a  marine 
cart,  a  peaceful,  commerce-carrying  wagon,  and  she 
had  no  cannon. 

When  the  spouts  arrived  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
of  the  ship,  the  sun  burst  through  a  rift  in  the  clouds 
and  shone  directly  on  them.  It  was  a  magnificent 
spectacle.  They  had  increased  in  size,  until  now  they 
must  have  measured  ten  or  fifteen  feet  in  their  small- 
est diameters.  They  were  of  about  equal  dimen- 
sions, and  revolved  with  such  speed  that  the  water 
seemed  drawn  out  into  threads.  But  it  was  solid  water, 
no  spray ;  for  even  at  the  thinnest  part  it  showed 
green  and  clear ;  while  now  that  they  were  so  close 
together,  the  whole  surface  of  the  sea  about  their 
feet  was  a  leaping,  tearing  mass  of  liquid  fury  im- 
possible to  describe. 


MATRIMONY   IN   THE   AIR  297 

Captain  Tom  glanced  along  the  deck.  The  men 
were  all  at  the  rail,  watching,  their  faces  hidden 
under  the  overhanging  flaps  of  their  sou'westers,  so 
that  he  was  unable  to  note  their  expressions.  He 
ordered  all  hands  called,  as  he  would  not  have  them 
drowned  in  their  bunks.  They  told  him  all  hands 
were  on  deck. 

When  within  a  cable's  length  of  the  quarter,  the 
three  spouts  met.  Tom  grasped  a  backstay  and 
drew  a  long  breath.  They  must  surely  now  collapse 
and  swamp  the  old  ship  under  the  weight  of  falling 
water.  They  did  nothing  of  the  kind.  As  the  three 
united,  the  shock  of  meeting  deflected  the  single 
column,  so  that  it  passed  clear  of  her  stern.  There 
was  a  shock  that  nearly  threw  Captain  Benton  off 
his  feet,  as  her  stern  rose  in  the  air,  while  she  buried 
her  jib-boom  and  rolled  both  rails  under.  The  fore 
and  main  top-gallant  masts  went  by  the  board,  and 
as  the  giant  spout  crossed  her  stern  she  was  bom- 
barded with  a  shower  of  shells,  sand,  and  live  fish, 
accompanied  by  a  drenching  shower  of  water.  Cap- 
tain Benton  had  dodged  forward  of  the  inizzenmast. 
She  had  a  pilot  house,  but  as  the  scuttle  was  open  on 
account  of  the  heat,  the  helmsman,  cut  and  bleeding, 
stood  in  a  pile  of  sand  and  squirming  fish.  The 
crew  nearly  all  received  slight  injuries.  The  sails, 
old  fine-weather  canvas,  were  cut  to  ribbons,  while 
the  spars  and  after-surfaces  of  the  houses  were 


298  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

scraped  and  battered  to  pulp  by  this  great  natural 
sand  blast. 

When  it  became  possible  to  leave  the  shelter  of 
the  mast,  Captain  Benton  looked  anxiously  after  the 
great  spout,  which  was  now  half  a  mile  away  on  the 
port  quarter,  going  toward  the  land.  As  he  watched 
it,  it  seemed  to  sink  and  dwindle  as  though  some 
mighty  force  was  drawing  it  into  the  depths.  It 
sank,  leaned  far  over,  and  thrashed  and  tugged  as 
though  fighting  with  some  unseen  monster  for  its 
life.  Then  of  a  sudden  it  shot  up,  higher  and  bigger 
than  before,  but  no  longer  composed  of  clear  green 
water.  It  was  dirty,  muddy,  and  the  troubled  sea  at 
its  base  was  yellow. 

As  Captain  Tom  watched  the  thing,  half  dazed 
with  fear  and  wonder,  he  perceived  that  when  it  shot 
up  in  that  peculiar  manner  it  became  changed  in 
some  respects.  It  no  longer  revolved  so  rapidly  as 
at  first,  and  there  was  a  dark  object  visible  in  the 
smallest  part,  which  seemed  to  project  outside  the 
spout  itself,  something,  evidently,  which  had  been 
torn  up  from  the  ocean's  bed.  Fascinated  by  the 
strange  sight,  he  brought  the  long  telescope  from 
the  companion  to  bear  on  it.  Sometimes  the 
object,  whatever  it  was,  would  slowly  descend  nearly 
to  the  sea-level,  then  as  gracefully  rise  again  in  the 
supporting  pillar  of  water  to  a  height  of  fifty  or 
sixty  feet,  as  a  pith-ball  rides  on  a  fountain  jet.  As 


MATRIMONY   IN  THE  AIR  299 

nearly  as  he  could  make  out,  it  bore  a  resemblance  to 
a  vessel's  hull,  but  he  could  not  be  sure.  The  spout 
was  approaching  the  land,  and,  even  as  he  looked, 
the  watery  giant  bowed  its  great  head,  as  if  in  sub- 
mission to  inevitable  fate,  and  plunged  upon  the 
rocky  point  of  Socotra.  Captain  Benton  saw  land 
and  trees  sloughed  off  by  the  resistless  deluge,  until 
only  the  rocky  skeleton  remained.  The  water  raced 
back  in  a  thousand  muddy  cascades  to  its  parent 
ocean,  and  the  great  waterspout  was  gone. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  crew,  under  the  mate's 
orders,  had  cleared  away  the  wreckage  and  were  now 
bending  sails.  It  was  an  all-night  job.  Towards  morn- 
ing a  light  breeze  sprung  up,  the  weather  cleared,  and 
with  a  heart  full  of  gratitude  Captain  Benton  once 
more  contemplated  the  broad  wake  over  the  taffrail. 

The  cargo  was  ready  for  him  when  he  arrived,  so 
he  was  at  sea  again  within  a  month.  He  fell  into 
a  calm  belt  at  once,  and  fussed  and  fumed,  for  he 
was  ambitious  to  make  a  good  passage.  But  it  was 
no  use ;  as  usual  his  luck  was  against  him.  Slowly 
and  laboriously  the  Barracoota  waded  to  the  south- 
ward. Every  mile  of  her  way  might  almost  have 
been  sailed  in  the  sweat  of  her  crew,  who  perspired, 
ay,  and  swore  as  sailors  will,  at  her  braces,  tacks,  and 
sheets,  day  and  night.  One  bright  hot  morning 
found  them  rolling  lazily  in  a  raging  calm  off  the 
naked  point  of  Socotra. 


300  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

With  genuine  Yankee  curiosity,  Captain  Benton 
brought  his  glass  to  bear  on  it.  Nothing  but  bare 
and  very  uninteresting  rocks.  There  was  a  light 
current  sweeping  the  ship  slowly  to  the  southward. 
As  he  watched  listlessly  he  noticed  a  queer-looking 
object  coming  into  view  as  the  bearings  gradually 
changed.  A  few  minutes'  inspection  assured  him 
that  it  was  the  burden  the  waterspout  had  borne 
ashore,  and  as  the  ship  was  quite  close  in  now,  he 
could  almost  swear  it  was  a  wreck.  There  was  not 
a  sign  of  wind,  so  he  ordered  a  boat  out,  and,  telling 
the  mate  to  signal  him  if  the  least  whiff  of  air  ap- 
peared, pulled  ashore.  As  he  drew  nearer,  he  saw 
that  it  was  indeed  a  vessel's  hull,  of  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent build  from  anything  he  had  ever  seen.  The 
landing  was  difficult,  as  the  rocks  were  round  and 
smooth,  presenting  almost  perpendicular  faces  to  the 
sea,  but  with  the  assistance  of  the  boat's  crew  he 
finally  scrambled  up  to  where  the  wreck  lay  wedged 
between  two  great  rocks. 

She  was  about  sixty  feet  long ;  her  upper  works 
were  gone,  and  her  back  was  broken  across  the  rock. 
She  had  been  in  the  water  so  long,  and  afterwards 
so  thoroughly  kiln-dried  by  the  blazing  tropical  sun, 
that  she  looked  more  like  the  wreck  of  a  basket  than 
of  a  vessel,  and  the  planking  was  so  thoroughly 
bored  by  teredos  that  it  resembled  honeycomb.  Here 
and  there,  through  the  hungry  cracks,  the  spindling 


MATRIMONY   IN   THE   AIR  30 1 

remains  of  bolts  were  visible ;  which,  when  scraped, 
were  found  to  be  copper,  or  bronze.  There  was 
no  trace  of  fastening  in  the  upper  works ;  they 
hung  together  from  force  of  habit  alone.  It  was 
impossible  to  say  which  end  had  been  her  bow ;  she 
was  too  far  gone  in  decay.  Helped  by  one  of  the 
men,  Captain  Benton  tore  off  enough  of  the  mummi- 
fied planking  to  enable  him  to  enter.  There  was 
but  little  to  see ;  a  few  skeleton-like  ribs,  bleached 
to  a  grayish  white,  and  a  trace  of  what  might  have 
been  a  port-hole  for  an  oar.  There  was  a  layer  of 
sand  and  shells  in  the  bottom  where  the  seams  had 
not  opened  wide  enough  to  let  it  drop  out ;  and  that 
was  all. 

In  climbing  aboard,  a  bit  of  the  rotten  planking 
had  broken  off  in  his  hand.  As  he  stood  looking 
about,  he  poked  idly  in  the  sand  with  it  and  encoun- 
tered a  resistance ;  scratching  away  the  sand  with 
his  hands,  he  uncovered  a  brick  or  bar  of  metal 
similar  to  that  of  which  the  bolts  were  made.  He 
decided  to  take  it  aboard  with  him  as  a  souvenir  of 
this  queer  old  vessel  which  had  been  so  strangely 
resurrected,  and  on  digging  further,  he  found  there 
were  several  more  of  them.  Probably  it  had  been 
a  part  of  her  cargo,  and,  owing  to  the  bottom  being 
preserved  in  the  sand,  it  had  been  brought  up  with 
her.  As  all  sorts  of  things  come  handy  on  a  long 
voyage,  he  passed  all  he  could  readily  find  out  to  the 


302  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

men,  who  put  them  in  the  boat.  They  were  as  heavy 
as  lead ;  so  he  decided  they  might  have  been  used 
by  the  ancient  mariners  as  ballast.  By  the  time 
he  had  handed  out  sixteen  of  them,  the  men  in  the 
boat  reported  the  ship  making  signals,  and  as  Cap- 
tain Tom  was  nearly  prostrated  with  the  heat,  he 
was  glad  of  an  excuse  to  quit.  They  returned  aboard, 
hoisted  the  boat  in,  threw  the  copper  bars  in  the 
boatswain's  locker,  and,  a  breeze  coming  up,  soon 
left  Socotra  astern. 

In  spite  of  his  inauspicious  start,  Tom  made  a  good 
passage  to  Liverpool.  The  Barracoota  —  as  her  name 
implied  —  was  built  for  sailing  ;  and,  though  she  was 
too  old  now  to  stand  very  hard  driving,  Tom  laced 
it  to  her  pretty  well,  with  the  result  that  he  was 
complimented  by  the  owners,  and  his  appointment 
was  confirmed. 

He  went  from  Liverpool  to  Cardiff,  where  he 
loaded  coal  for  Rio,  and  from  there  he  took  a  cargo 
of  coffee  to  London. 

While  in  Rio,  he  received  a  present.  The  con- 
signee had  a  handsome  young  Newfoundland  dog, 
and  fearing  the  effect  of  the  climate  on  the  animal, 
and  being  very  fond  of  it,  he  begged  Captain  Tom 
to  take  it  with  him.  Tom  soon  became  attached  to 
Neptune,  who,  dog-like,  knew  that  his  master  was 
also  master  of  everybody  else  on  board.  Neptune 
was  frolicsome  and  playful  as  a  kitten  with  the 


MATRIMONY   IN   THE   AIR  303 

captain,  but  he  despised  everybody  else.  He  was 
obliged  to  tolerate  the  mates  ;  but  no  sailor  could 
approach  him  without  risking  a  nip  from  his  power- 
ful jaws.  One  morning,  while  the  watch  were  wash- 
ing down,  Neptune  deliberately  attacked  an  English- 
man and  tore  the  man's  bare  leg  severely. 

Attracted  by  his  cries  and  a  fierce  growling,  Cap- 
tain Benton  rushed  on  deck  with  his  revolver.  He 
would  have  shot  the  dog,  but  Neptune,  leaving  his 
victim,  rushed  to  welcome  his  master  with  such  ex- 
travagant signs  of  affection,  that  Tom's  just  wrath  at 
the  evil  deed  was  overcome  by  love  for  his  pet.  He 
told  the  mate  to  drown  Neptune  at  eight  bells ;  for 
it  is  an  unwritten  law  on  board  ship  that  biting  dogs 
must  die.  Desiring  to  insure  his  poor  friend  a 
merciful  death,  he  ordered  him  to  be  well  ballasted. 

"A  holystone,  sir  ?  "  suggested  the  mate. 

"  Yes,  that  will  do  —  or,  say,  Mr.  Janeway,  there 
should  be  some  bars  of  copper  in  the  boatswain's 
locker." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Tie  half  a  dozen  of  them  around  his  neck  and 
drop  him  off  the  cathead !  " 

"  Too  bad  to  use  so  many  of  them,  sir.  That 
copper  might  come  handy  some  time,  and  anyway, 
one  would  do  the  job." 

"  Will  you  do  as  I  tell  you  ?  "  shouted  the  captain, 
angrily. 


304  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  Yes  sir,  of  course." 

"  Well,  then,  tie  six  of  'em  to  him  ;  do  you  hear  ?  " 

"All  right,  sir." 

So  there  went  six  bars  of  the  ancient  copper. 

When  the  cargo  was  discharged  in  London, 
freights  being  low,  Captain  Tom  received  orders  to 
lay  the  ship  up  and  wait  for  better  times.  He 
hauled  her  into  an  out-of-the-way  corner  of  the 
Victoria  Dock,  where  wharfage  was  cheap,  and  tied 
her  up. 

Tom  Benton  was  becoming  morose.  He  had 
reached  the  top  rung  of  his  ladder,  but  he  was  as 
far  away  as  ever  from  the  accomplishment  of  the 
task  he  had  set  himself  on  starting  out.  He  knew 
that  he  needed  to  own  the  controlling  interest  in 
his  ship.  Ever  since  he  first  sailed  in  the  Barra- 
coota he  had  been  saving  his  money  with  that  object 
in  view ;  but  he  was  getting  tired.  The  saving  from 
wages  accumulated  so  slowly,  and  it  takes  so  much 
money  to  pay  for  the  controlling  interest  in  a  ship ! 
Now  that  she  was  laid  up,  he  got  no  pay,  but  only 
his  keep.  He  would  be  an  old  man  by  the  time  he 
could  save  enough,  even  if  everything  went  all  right. 
His  ambition  was  becoming  discouraged  and  his 
boyish  romance  a  silly  memory. 

In  pursuance  of  his  economical  theory,  he  lived 
aboard,  doing  his  own  cooking.  One  evening  while 
looking  to  his  shore  fasts,  the  coffee-pot  boiled  over 


MATRIMONY  IN  THE  AIR  305 

in  the  cabin,  boiled  dry,  and  the  bottom  became  un- 
soldered. He  washed  his  supper  down  with  "  scuttle 
butt  juice,"  and,  for  want  of  employment,  decided 
to  mend  his  coffee-pot.  A  search  of  the  tool  chest 
brought  to  light  rosin  and  solder,  but  no  soldering- 
iron.  After  trying  ineffectually  to  utilize  an  iron 
bolt,  he  remembered  that  soldering-irons  were  made 
of  copper.  He  was  unable  to  find  a  copper  bolt, 
but  there  were  plenty  of  those  old  copper  bars  in 
the  boatswain's  locker.  A  cold  chisel  and  hammer 
were  soon  found,  and,  with  the  crown  of  the  anchor 
for  an  anvil,  he  chopped  a  suitable  piece  from  one 
of  the  bars.  It  was  soft  even  for  copper,  so  he 
readily  hammered  it  into  the  required  shape.  It 
glistened  under  the  hammer  as  the  moon  shone  on 
it,  and  he  reflected  that  it  must  be  a  very  pure  speci- 
men to  have  survived  such  a  long  immersion  in  salt 
water.  How  heavy  it  was !  It  felt  more  like  lead 
than  copper. 

Leaving  the  larger  piece  on  the  forecastle,  he  re- 
turned to  the  cabin.  He  inspected  his  work  by  the 
light  of  the  cabin  lamp  —  and  nearly  fainted.  In 
his  hand,  roughly  hammered  into  the  shape  of  a  tin- 
smith's soldering-tool,  he  held  a  lump  of  pure  gold ! 


CHAPTER   XIX 

KITTY  MAKES  AN  ACQUAINTANCE — MRS.  DE  LACEY  AND 

HER  TROUBLES A  TRUE  AND  HELPFUL  FRIEND  — 

TO  EUROPE  —  KITTY'S  MEMORY  RETURNS  —  JOYFUL 
NEWS  FOR  THE  FOLKS  AT  HOME —  M.  PIERRE  FOUCHET 

KITTY    AND    MRS.    DE    LACEY    DECIDE    TO    TRAVEL 

WHEN  the  train  arrived,  Kitty  boarded  it  and  took 
the  only  vacant  seat.  Her  attention  was  attracted 
to  an  elderly  lady  who  occupied  the  seat  directly  in 
front  of  her.  She  was  a  woman  between  fifty  and 
sixty  years  of  age,  the  undeniable  richness  of  whose 
apparel  denoted  ample  means.  She  was  travelling 
alone,  and,  in  spite  of  the  exertions  of  her  strong 
will,  betrayed  the  fact  that  she  was  suffering  great 
pain.  As  she  leaned  her  head  against  the  side  of 
the  car,  Kitty  observed  the  fine  face  grow  pale  and 
flush  again,  while  the  corners  of  the  mouth  were 
drawn,  as  if  in  an  effort  to  suppress  a  cry. 

Her  distress  appealed  to  Kitty's  sympathetic  nature, 
and  when  she  saw  the  lady  make  an  ineffectual  at- 
tempt to  raise  a  heavy  satchel  that  lay  at  her  feet, 
she  offered  her  services. 

The  sufferer  glanced  at  her  with  an  expression  of 
306 


KITTY'S   MEMORY  RETURNS  307 

gratitude.  "  If  you  will  kindly  hand  me  my  satchel," 
she  said,  "  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged." 

Kitty  raised  the  satchel  to  the  seat  by  her  side, 
and,  the  one  ahead  having  been  vacated  at  the  last 
stop,  she  deftly  turned  it  and  seated  herself  facing 
the  lady.  The  latter  produced  a  small  key,  and  took 
from  her  bag  a  medicine  phial  and  a  graduated  glass. 
She  attempted  to  drop  some  of  the  liquid  into  the 
glass,  but  owing  to  her  nervousness  and  the  motion 
of  the  train,  was  unable  to  do  so. 

"If  you  will  allow  me,"  said  Kitty,  "I  think  I 
can  do  that  for  you." 

"Thank  you  very  much,  if  you  will  be  so  kind. 
My  nerves  are  rather  unsteady." 

"  How  many  ? "  asked  Kitty,  as  she  began  to 
count  the  drops. 

"Not  more  than  seven,  please  —  then  if  you  will 
get  about  a  tablespoonful  of  water  to  put  in  it  — 
I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you  so." 

"  It  is  no  trouble  at  all,  I  assure  you.  I  am  only 
too  happy  to  be  of  use  to  you." 

The  lady  drank  the  medicine  eagerly,  and  laid  her 
head  back  and  closed  her  eyes.  As  Kitty  watched 
over  the  invalid  and  noted  the  kindly  expression  of 
the  weary  face,  her  heart  went  out  to  the  traveller, 
who,  in  spite  of  her  evident  wealth,  was  so  dreadfully 
alone.  Presently  she  raised  her  head,  opened  her 
eyes,  and  with  a  smile  of  great  sweetness,  said :  — 


308  TOM  BENTON'S  LUCK 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  thank  you.  You  have 
rendered  me  a  great  service.  It  is  not  that  I  might 
have  died  for  the  want  of  those  few  drops  —  I  should 
not  have  cared  for  that ;  but  I  was  in  dreadful  pain. 
My  maid  left  the  car  for  a  moment  just  before  we 
started  from  Albany,  and  failed  to  return  in  time; 
and  alone  I  am  so  helpless." 

Her  head  drooped  as  she  spoke,  and  before  Kitty 
could  reply  to  her  grateful  acknowledgment,  she 
was  sound  asleep.  Kitty  arranged  her  wraps  so 
that  she  would  rest  comfortably,  and  remained  at 
her  side.  The  old  lady  slept  soundly  for  fifteen  or 
twenty  minutes,  and  awoke  much  refreshed.  Being 
mutually  attracted,  they  then  conversed  freely,  and 
the  lady  gave  Kitty  a  short  account  of  herself. 

Mrs.  Eugenia  De  Lacey  was  a  native  of  France, 
having  been  born  in  Bordeaux.  She  came  to 
America  when  but  eight  years  of  age,  landing 
with  her  father  and  mother  in  New  Orleans.  Two 
years  later  she  lost  both  parents  by  yellow  fever. 
Left  alone,  though  wealthy,  she  made  her  home  with 
friends,  and  during  the  winter  of  her  sixteenth  year 
she  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Maurice  De  Lacey, 
a  wealthy  flour  merchant  of  Rochester,  New  York. 
Mr.  De  Lacey,  though  ten  years  her  senior,  won  the 
affections  of  the  little  French  girl;  they  were  mar- 
ried and  lived  happily  for  forty  years. 

At  his   death,  two  years   previously,  he   left   his 


KITTY'S   MEMORY   RETURNS  309 

widow  and  only  son  an  immense  fortune.  This  son, 
Gerald  De  Lacey,  a  young  man  of  twenty-three,  was 
the  apple  of  his  mother's  eye.  She  wished  him  to 
go  into  political  life,  and  as  his  own  tastes  tended  in 
the  same  direction,  the  business  was  sold,  and  after 
graduating  with  honors  from  Harvard,  he  entered 
the  law  office  of  the  senior  senator  from  his  state, 
where  he  acquired  that  practical  knowledge  of  the 
law,  which  is  the  first  step  toward  successful  states- 
manship. 

Shortly  after  his  father's  death,  while  taking  an 
active  part  in  a  gubernatorial  campaign,  Gerald 
invited  the  voters  of  his  district  to  a  picnic  and 
barbecue.  It  was  the  grandest  affair  of  the  kind 
ever  witnessed  in  the  county.  Ten  four-horse  coaches 
took  the  party  to  a  grove  five  miles  from  town. 
The  day  was  perfect  and  all  enjoyed  themselves 
to  the  utmost.  Mrs.  De  Lacey  was  present,  and 
her  heart  overflowed  with  maternal  pride  as  she  saw 
her  handsome  and  talented  son  the  acknowledged 
leader  in  a  throng  where  there  were  many  clever  men. 
The  deference  paid  him  by  gray-haired  veterans  of 
the  political  arena  was  sweet  to  her  soul,  and  when, 
in  response  to  calls  for  a  speech,  he  mounted  a 
stump  and  made  the  woods  ring  with  his  eloquence, 
her  cup  of  happiness  was  full. 

The  barbecued  ox  having  been  disposed  of  with 
many  savory  accompaniments,  and  the  happy  day 


3IO  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

having  come  to  a  close,  the  merry  crew  reembarked 
in  the  coaches,  and  with  the  horns  blowing,  and  flags 
waving,  with  songs  and  merry  jests,  they  started  for 
home.  Gerald,  as  the  host,  drove  the  leading  coach. 
He  was  an  expert  whip,  and  led  the  procession  royally, 
while  Mrs.  De  Lacey  with  a  number  of  elderly  ladies 
had  the  rear  coach  principally  to  themselves. 

There  was  a  railroad  track  to  be  crossed — an 
insignificant  single-track  branch  running  to  a  gravel- 
pit.  It  was  seldom  used,  but  Gerald,  whose  well- 
trained  mind  neglected  no  details,  had  cautioned  all 
the  drivers  not  to  cross  it  until  satisfied  that  it  was 
perfectly  safe.  On  the  return  trip  this  crossing  was 
at  the  foot  of  a  very  steep  hill,  and  the  view  of  the 
track  was  obstructed  by  a  dense  growth  of  trees  on 
either  side.  Gerald  set  his  foot-brake  as  soon  as  his 
coach  started  on  the  descent.  Half-way  down,  the 
bolt  connecting  the  lever  with  the  brake-rod  dropped 
out,  and  the  heavy  coach  leaped  ahead,  nearly  taking 
the  horses  off  their  feet.  The  wheelers,  a  pair  of 
high-spirited  colts  of  his  own  breeding,  became 
frightened  and  jumped  forward.  Gerald  tugged  at 
the  reins,  and  friends  on  the  box  helped  him ;  he 
talked  to  his  horses,  trying  to  quiet  them  ;  but  in 
spite  of  all  he  could  do  they  dashed  madly  down  the 
hill. 

The  railroad  track  was  seen  to  be  clear;  so, 
steadying  them  as  best  he  could,  and  speaking  to 


KITTY'S   MEMORY  RETURNS  311 

them  soothingly,  he  kept  them  squarely  in  the 
middle  of  the  road.  They  were  going  at  a  frightful 
pace,  and  the  stage  rocked  like  a  dismantled  hulk. 
The  off  leader's  iron-shod  hoof  slipped  on  the  steel 
rail,  and  he  went  down.  There  was  a  tangle  of 
hoofs,  heads,  and  legs;  a  snorting  and  pawing  as 
the  wheelers  fell  on  top  of  him,  and  a  ripping  and 
rending  of  leather,  wood,  and  iron  as  the  coach 
topped  the  struggling  pile. 

A  long  string  of  empty  flat  cars  was  being  pushed 
around  the  curve  on  its  way  to  the  gravel-pit.  It 
wasn't  going  very  fast,  —  only  fifteen  miles  an  hour, 
—  and  there  was  a  man  on  the  leading  car  signalling 
continually  to  the  engineer.  By  the  time  this  man 
saw  the  stage  and  plunging  horses,  the  wooded 
curve  obscured  his  signals  from  the  watchful  en- 
gineer. With  the  quick  thoughtfulness  his  train- 
ing had  taught  him,  he  jumped  to  the  ground  and 
ran  back,  waving  his  arms  and  shouting  frantically. 
The  front  wheels  of  the  stage  were  squarely  on  the 
track,  and  the  approaching  cars  were  seen  by  its 
occupants.  Those  on  the  outside  leaped  for  their 
lives  and  called  on  Gerald  to  follow.  He  might 
easily  have  done  so,  but  he  knew  that  those  inside 
were  helpless.  Vainly  he  struggled  to  bring  the 
horses  to  their  feet  and  back  the  stage  from  the 
track.  As  relentless  as  fate  the  cars  came  rolling 
on.  The  leading  car  demolished  the  stage,  dis,- 


312  TOM  BENTON'S   LUCK 

membered  the  horses,  and  turned  itself  at  right 
angles  to  the  track,  —  others  mounted  it,  and 
climbed  over  the  pile  of  wreckage  and  dead  and 
dying  men  and  horses,  mangling  them  beyond 
recognition. 

When,  from  the  horrified  cries  that  were  wafted 
back  to  her,  Mrs.  De  Lacey  gained  an  idea  of  what 
had  happened,  she  ran  to  the  scene,  white  and  breath- 
less, past  the  other  vehicles.  Men  tried  to  detain 
her ;  but  she  turned  on  them  with  the  ferocity  of  a 
tigress.  She  tore  wildly  at  the  wreckage,  lacerating 
her  delicate  hands  until  they  were  raw,  but  piled-up 
cars  are  not  to  be  removed  by  such  means.  When 
she  realized  the  futility  of  her  efforts  her  mind  gave 
way,  and  she  was  carried  shrieking  to  a  coach  and 
driven  home. 

The  remains  of  the  brilliant  young  man,  who  had 
given  his  life  in  a  vain  attempt  to  save  his  friends, 
were  buried  while  his  mother  raved  in  delirium. 

When  she  came  back  reluctantly  to  life  and 
reason,  her  surroundings  were  hateful.  Everything 
reminded  her  of  her  double  affliction.  There  was 
nothing  to  keep  her.  Maurice  was  gone,  and  Gerald 
was  gone  ;  she  would  go  too.  Anywhere,  to  drag  out 
the  few  remaining  years  of  her  loneliness.  While 
in  this  frame  of  mind  her  thoughts  returned  to  the 
home  of  her  early  childhood,  —  "  La  Belle  France." 
She  had  not  heard  from  there  since  she  had  cast 


KITTY'S   MEMORY   RETURNS  313 

her  lot  with  her  American  husband,  but  there  might 
be  some  of  her  name  there  yet ;  some  member  of 
her  family  to  whom  she  could  be  of  service  —  per- 
haps Suzette,  the  bright,  jolly,  sparkling  cousin  who 
had  been  her  earliest  playmate. 

Suzette  had  said  she  would  marry  a  soldier,  and 
now  Mrs.  De  Lacey  remembered,  or  thought  she 
did,  that  years  ago  when  she  was  prosperous  and 
happy,  she  had  heard  somehow  that  Suzette  had 
married  a  dashing  young  lieutenant  of  dragoons 
who  was  immediately  ordered  to  Algiers.  She  was 
probably  poor  and  the  mother  of  a  large  family. 
Mrs.  De  Lacey  would  help  them.  She  would  obtain 
the  lieutenant's  discharge  from  the  army,  and  educate 
the  children.  She  would  even  adopt  the  entire  family. 

With  this  idea  she  again  became  interested  in  life, 
only  fearing  she  might  not  live  to  accomplish  the 
work.  So,  before  she  was  fit  to  travel,  she  had 
started  ;  and  here  she  was  bound  on  a  three-thou- 
sand-miles journey  to  assist  Suzette,  who,  for  all  she 
knew,  might  have  been  dead  for  thirty  years. 

Kitty  was  unable  to  give  a  very  connected  account 
of  herself,  and  was  unwilling  to  tell  all  she  did 
know ;  for  there  was  a  hazy  idea  in  her  muddled 
brain  that  she  must  keep  her  mission  secret.  But 
as  Mrs.  De  Lacey  was  exhausted  with  her  own  story 
and  the  emotions  which  it  called  up,  she  paid  but 
little  attention  to  her  young  companion's  tale. 


314  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Mrs.  De  Lacey  proposed  stopping  at  the  Astor 
House.  The  name  was  somehow  familiar  to  Kitty, 
so  she  announced  her  intention  of  going  to  the 
same  hotel,  and  during  the  following  week  these 
two  became  strongly  attached  to  each  other.  Mrs. 
De  Lacey  lavished  all  the  love  of  her  broken  heart 
on  "  Sarah  Stagg,"  and  although  she  had  learned 
but  little  of  the  girl's  antecedents,  she  had  been  told 
she  was  an  orphan,  and  was  satisfied  with  the  beauty 
of  character  and  honesty  of  soul  that  shone  out  of 
her  clear  brown  eyes. 

Kitty  herself,  though  as  yet  incapable  of  sufficient 
consecutive  thought  to  know  where  the  twelve  thou- 
sand dollars  were  coming  from  when  she  should  find 
Tom,  realized  that  her  quest  must  end  where  she  was, 
for  want  of  funds.  So,  although  her  attentions  to 
Mrs.  De  Lacey  occupied  her  fully,  she  worried  in  a 
foggy  way  over  her  own  dilemma.  The  derelict 
maid  arrived  in  due  time  and  relieved  Kitty  of  the 
many  personal  offices  she  had  been  performing  for 
the  invalid,  thus  enabling  her  to  devote  all  her  time 
to  the  companionship  for  which  she  was  so  eminently 
fitted.  Mrs.  De  Lacey  delayed  her  departure  from 
the  city  from  day  to  day  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
maining in  "  Sarah's  "  company  as  long  as  possible. 
She  had  refrained  from  asking  her  destination  and  was 
agreeably  surprised  to  learn,  during  a  conversation 
one  evening,  that  she  too  was  bound  Europe-ward. 


KITTY'S   MEMORY   RETURNS  315 

"  Why  should  we  not  sail  together,  dear  —  unless 
you  are  tired  of  the  whims  of  an  old  woman?  I 
should  really  esteem  it  a  great  favor,"  said  Mrs. 
De  Lacey,  eagerly. 

Kitty  hesitated.  How  could  she  sail?  She  had 
but  a  few  dollars  left.  With  quick  intuition,  the 
elderly  lady  guessed  the  difficulty.  Gently,  so  as 
not  to  offend  the  most  delicate  sensibility,  she  pro- 
posed that  "  Sarah  "  should  go  as  her  companion,  or 
rather  guest,  and  after  some  little  fencing  between 
them  —  as  women  will  —  Kitty  gratefully  accepted 
the  generous  offer. 

A  week  later  found  them  both  inhaling  great 
draughts  of  health-giving  ozone  on  the  quarterdeck 
of  the  old  Havre  packet  ship  Andes,  Captain  James 
Austin,  and  once  recovered  from  the  slight  attack  of 
sea-sickness  incident  to  sailing,  they  both  improved 
in  health  rapidly.  Mrs.  De  Lacey  declared  she  was 
really  ashamed  of  her  voracious  appetite  ;  but  the 
jolly  captain  assured  her  that  he  hoped  to  see  her 
powers  in  that  line  doubled  before  she  left  his  ship. 

As  Kitty's  bodily  health  improved,  her  mental  fac- 
ulties also  grew  stronger.  She  began  to  catch  fleet- 
ing glimpses  of  a  former  existence  which  she  was 
unable  to  reconcile  with  her  present  surroundings. 
Mrs.  De  Lacey  frequently  noticed  that  "  Sarah " 
would  sit  with  wrinkled  brow,  staring  vacantly  into 
space,  and  although  this  strange  conduct  fretted  her, 


3l6  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

she  decided  to  say  nothing,  believing  her  young  com- 
panion would  confide  in  her  when  she  should  have 
solved  the  riddle,  whatever  it  might  be. 

On  the  morning  before  the  arrival  of  the  Havre 
pilot  Kitty  Blake  awoke  in  full  possession  of  her 
senses.  At  first  she  supposed  herself  in  the  car-seat 
with  Nellie ;  but  finding  she  was  on  board  ship,  she 
was  sadly  puzzled  at  the  strange  dream  which  she 
supposed  herself  to  have  had,  for  this  was  not  the 
Albatross.  She  sat  up  in  her  berth  and  looked 
through  the  little  round  deadlight  at  the  gently 
rolling  seas  that  flashed  along  in  the  bright  morning 
sun,  and  remembered  that  she  was  on  board  the 
Andes.  The  more  she  tried  to  straighten  out  her 
ideas,  the  worse  they  became  mixed.  There  was  a 
blank  somewhere,  a  missing  link,  without  which 
these  two  separate  existences  would  not  run 
smoothly  one  into  the  other.  She  hastened  to 
Mrs.  De  Lacey's  stateroom,  and  frightened  that 
good  lady  nearly  out  of  her  senses  by  declaring 
that  she  believed  herself  insane.  A  single  glance, 
however,  reassured  the  elderly  lady ;  there  was  no 
insanity  in  her  face.  Fear,  yes,  and  perplexity,  as 
Kitty  sat  on  the  edge  of  her  friend's  berth  and  told 
what  she  knew  of  herself.  The  older  woman  lis- 
tened with  absorbing  interest.  The  something  she 
had  never  been  able  to  understand  about  "  Sarah 
Stagg"  was  being  cleared  up. 


KITTY'S    MEMORY   RETURNS  317 

"  I  was  sitting  in  the  car  talking  with  Nellie," 
Kitty  concluded,  "  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  I  was 
Sarah  Stagg,  up  in  that  farm  cottage." 

Mrs.  De  Lacey  thought  a  moment,  and  then  asked 
how  long  ago  this  change  occurred. 

"  It  was  on  Friday,  the  fourth  of  September. 
School  was  to  commence  on  the  following  Monday." 

"  In  what  year,  dear  ?  " 

"What  year?"  asked  Kitty,  in  unfeigned  amaze- 
ment. "Why,  this  year,  18  — ." 

"  I  asked  what  year,  my  dear,  because  one  or  more 
years  might  easily  have  elapsed  since  you  lost  your 
identity.  Now  that  I  think  of  it,  Sarah,  —  or,  I 
should  say,  Kitty,  —  I  believe  I  can  explain  what 
happened  to  you.  The  date  is  fixed  in  my  mind 
because  it  was  the  day  before  the  barbecue,  and  I 
can  never  forget  that.  On  that  day,  that  unlucky 
Friday,  there  was  a  bad  wreck  on  the  Hudson  River 
Railroad,  in  which  several  people  were  killed  and 
many  more  injured.  I  think,  my  child,  that  you 
must  have  been  on  that  train ;  though  how  your 
friends  could  have  lost  track  of  you  so  completely 
I  cannot  imagine." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  that  is  it,"  replied  Kitty. 
"  I  remember,  now  that  you  have  told  me,  there 
was  a  crash  and  the  lights  went  out,  or  perhaps  I 
became  unconscious.  But  I  don't  understand,  either, 
how  I  came  to  be  lost.  I  should  have  thought  my 


318  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

friends  would  have  found  me  long  ago,  shouldn't 
you  ?  And  why  did  those  people  keep  me,  do  you 
suppose  ?  " 

She  suddenly  paled,  trembled,  and,  burying  her 
face  in  her  hands,  burst  into  a  violent  fit  of  weeping. 
Mrs.  De  Lacey  soothed  her  as  best  she  could,  and 
when  the  first  paroxysm  of  grief  had  somewhat 
abated,  she  exclaimed :  "  Oh,  I  know  now,  I  know  ! 
Nellie  was  killed,  and  the  Albatross  never  reached 
Portland.  Everybody  belonging  to  me  is  dead,  and 
I  wish  I  were  too." 

When  she  became  sufficiently  calm,  Mrs.  De  Lacey 
endeavored  to  reassure  her.  "  It  doesn't  follow  at 
all,"  said  she,  "that  your  friends  are  all  dead;  in 
fact,  it  is  very  improbable.  I  think  I  see  how  it  all 
may  have  happened.  Either  the  wreck  may  have 
caught  fire,  and  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  you 
had  perished,  and  that  your  body  was  consumed  in 
the  flames,  or  another  body  may  have  been  wrongly 
identified,  and  buried  as  yours." 

Kitty's  grief  burst  forth  afresh  at  this  view  of  the 
affair. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  my  dear  ?  You  are 
surely  not  sorry  to  have  escaped  such  a  terrible  fate, 
are  you  ? "  asked  Mrs.  De  Lacey,  smiling,  and  strok- 
ing Kitty's  glossy  hair  affectionately  with  her  thin 
white  hand. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  replied  Kitty  between  her  sobs, 


KITTY'S   MEMORY   RETURNS  319 

"but  when  you  spoke  of  such  dreadful  things,  it 
occurred  to  me  all  at  once  that  if  they  had  reason 
to  think  that  was  my  fate,  it  probably  was  poor 
Nellie's.  She  was  a  weak  little  thing  and  always 
depended  on  me." 

"  It  might  not  be,  —  the  very  fact  that  it  was  not 
yours  gives  you  reason  to  hope  that  she  too  may 
have  escaped." 

Still  Kitty  wept.  "  Poor  Father  and  Mother  Hay- 
ward!"  she  cried.  "How  they  must  feel!  They 
loved  me  as  if  I  were  their  own  daughter !  " 

"  I  am  sure  they  did,  my  child ;  they  could  not 
help  it.  But  as  there  is  nothing  we  can  do  until  we 
arrive,  try  not  to  mourn  so,  but  take  a  more  hopeful 
view  of  the  matter.  I  feel  sure  that  you  will  find 
your  friends  are  all  safe  and  sound.  It  would  be  an 
almost  unheard-of  case  for  so  many  to  have  met  with 
disasters  at  the  same  time.  Try  and  imagine  the 
pleasure  with  which  they  will  receive  the  news  of 
your  safety.  It  is  a  much  pleasanter  subject  for 
thought ;  and  I  feel  quite  sure  that  everything  will 
prove  to  be  all  right." 

A  long  time  passed,  and  many  letters  went  to  and 
fro  across  the  Atlantic  before  the  story  of  Kitty's 
adventure  was  made  plain  to  all  concerned.  When 
Nellie  learned  that  the  chum  whom  she  had  mourned 
as  dead  was  alive  and  well,  her  joy  knew  no  bounds. 
She  declared  it  to  be  stranger  than  the  story  books, 


32O  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

while  good  Mrs.  Hayward  wept  and  prayed  alter- 
nately. She  wrote  her  darling  a  long  letter,  in  which 
she  begged  her  to  return  by  the  first  ship ;  but  as 
Kitty's  mind  was  now  relieved  of  worry,  she  became 
interested  in  her  strange  surroundings,  so  she  replied 
that,  for  the  present,  she  would  remain  with  the  kind 
woman  who  had  so  generously  befriended  her. 

Mr.  Hayward  hunted  up  the  Staggs,  and,  after 
expressing  his  gratitude  for  their  kindness  to  Kitty, 
he  paid  off  the  mortgage  on  their  stony  little  farm, 
and  replaced  the  slaughtered  cow  with  a  full-blooded 
Durham. 

Our  travellers  rested  two  days  in  Havre.  These 
were  delightful  days  to  Kitty,  who  never  tired  of 
watching  the  strange  outlandish  ways  of  the  French- 
men. Their  extreme  politeness  flattered  her,  though 
she  knew  it  was  to  a  great  extent  superficial,  and  to 
have  every  one,  even  the  newsboys  in  the  streets, 
politely  touch  their  caps  when  spoken  to,  gave  her 
a  pleasing  sense  of  importance  she  had  never  known 
before. 

When  Mrs.  De  Lacey  felt  quite  recovered  from 
the  fatigue  of  the  voyage,  they  departed  for  Bor- 
deaux. Inquiry  at  .the  office  of  the  chief  of  police 
produced  the  information  that  but  one  representative 
of  Mrs.  De  Lacey's  family  resided  in  the  place : 
Monsieur  Pierre  Fouchet,  her  cousin,  a  retired  cheese 
manufacturer.  Monsieur  Fouchet  was  a  bachelor; 


KITTY'S   MEMORY   RETURNS  321 

reputed  to  be  very  rich,  and  known  to  be  exceed- 
ingly cranky.  The  day  after  their  arrival  the  ladies 
called  on  him.  He  was  —  as  an  old  bachelor  should 
be  —  a  little,  weazened  creature,  clean-shaven,  and 
wearing  enormous  spectacles,  and  whose  thin  gray 
hair  stood  out  in  flimsy  wisps  from  his  head,  in  all 
directions. 

Monsieur  Fouchet  suspected  every  one  of  designs 
on  his  pocket-book ;  consequently  he  was  ever  on  the 
defensive.  He  disliked  strangers,  and  as  he  believed 
with  his  illustrious  countryman  that  "  language  was 
given  to  man  the  better  to  enable  him  to  conceal 
his  thoughts,"  it  is  safe  to  say  that  few  gained  any- 
thing by  an  interview  with  the  little  old  miser. 
When  the  two  ladies  called,  he  received  them  in 
a  shabby,  musty  drawing-room  which  was  as  dingy 
as  his  most  unlovely  self,  and  without  offering 
them  seats,  he  inquired  their  business.  Mrs.  De 
Lacey  introduced  herself  as  the  daughter  of  his 
father's  brother  Robert,  adding  that  the  family  had 
emigrated  to  America  many  years  ago.  Her  cousin's 
grimy  fingers  spread  apart  to  their  utmost  extent,  as 
he  answered  with  a  squeak  like  a  rat  behind  a  wain- 
scot :  "  I  know  him  not,  madame.  What  have  I  to 
do  with  him?  He  went  to  America.  Bien!  I  stayed 
at  home.  It  is  late  in  the  day  for  him  to  come  to  me 
now.  I  am  an  old  man,  and,  as  you  see,  very  poor. 
I  can  do  nothing  for  him.  He  should  have  stayed 


322  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

here.  Or,  having  gone  to  America,  he  should  stay 
there.  What  does  he  suppose  ?  That  I  shall  stay 
here  and  work  all  my  days  that  he  may  come  to 
me  after  wasting  his  time  in  America!  No,  it 
cannot  be." 

When  Mrs.  De  Lacey  was  able  to  break  through 
this  torrent  of  disclaimer,  she  told  him  her  father 
had  been  dead  forty  years,  and  that  all  she  asked 
was  news  of  the  family. 

He  knew  nothing  of  the  family ;  he  was  not 
aware  that  there  had  been  any  family.  Did  he  not 
remember  Suzette  ?  "  Suzette  ?  Oh,  certainly  !  " 
He  remembered  Suzette  ;  she  was  his  sister.  Where 
was  she  now  ?  He  could  not  say.  She  married 
a  soldier  and  went  off  somewhere,  as  such  people  do. 
Oh,  yes ;  he  had  seen  her  several  times  since  then. 
She  had  come  and  told  him  of  her  troubles ;  they 
all  did  ;  but  he  had  troubles  of  his  own ;  he  couldn't 
be  bothered  with  hers ;  let  her  tell  them  to  her  hus- 
band. 

And  so  he  ran  on  garrulously,  his  fingers  adding 
their  dumb  eloquence  to  the  expression  that  his  one 
desire  was  to  be  left  alone.  After  half  an  hour  of 
this  sort  of  thing,  the  ladies,  tired  with  standing,  and 
satisfied  of  the  impossibility  of  obtaining  any  infor- 
mation from  the  old  man,  returned  to  the  hotel. 
Thoroughly  disgusted  with  the  selfishness  of  her 
kinsman,  Mrs.  De  Lacey  decided  to  discontinue  any 


KITTY'S  MEMORY   RETURNS  333 

further  efforts  toward  looking  up  her  family.  If 
Suzette  appeared  on  the  scene,  she  would  assist  her ; 
but  as  for  seeking  any  more  of  them,  she  would  not, 
and  she  proposed  that  Kitty  and  herself  should  travel 
further,  and  that  Kitty  should  continue  her  studies 
in  order  to  complete  her  education.  This  proposition 
met  with  immediate  and  enthusiastic  approval  on 
Kitty's  part;  so  they  proceeded  to  carry  it  out  with- 
out delay. 


CHAPTER   XX 

A  STRANGE    BUSINESS    TRANSACTION  —  TOM    RESIGNS  — 

THE  "  SOCOTRA  "  — PORTLAND TERRIBLE   NEWS — 

OFF   TO    SEA 

STAGGERED  by  his  discovery,  Captain  Benton  sank 
into  a  chair  and  gazed  stupidly  at  the  bit  of  metal 
in  his  hand.  A  doubt  was  in  his  mind :  after  all,  he 
might  be  mistaken  —  he  probably  was.  He  took  it 
close  to  the  lamp  and  examined  it  carefully;  he 
scraped  a  bright  place  on  it  and  compared  it  with 
his  watch-case.  It  was  finer,  and  much  richer  in 
appearance.  The  last  vestige  of  doubt  was  set  at 
rest;  it  was  undoubtedly  gold — gold  of  remarkable 
fineness  and  purity. 

He  bethought  him  of  the  large  piece  he  had  left 
on  the  anchor,  a  prey  to  any  chance  prowler.  Hur- 
riedly he  darted  up  the  companionway,  halted  at  the 
top  step,  and  returned.  He  hid  the  piece  between 
his  mattresses,  locked  the  cabin  windows,  felt  the 
fastenings  of  the  skylight,  glanced  feverishly  around 
to  see  that  all  was  secure,  and,  returning  to  the  deck, 
locked  the  door,  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket.  He 
started  to  run  forward,  but  checked  himself,  and 
walked  decorously,  even  slowly.  There  were  watch- 

324 


KING   SOLOMON'S   INGOTS  325 

men   on    the    other   vessels;    they    might    see,    and 
wonder  at  his  haste. 

There  it  lay,  glittering  richly  in  the  moonlight. 
He  seized  it  greedily,  and  dived  under  the  forecastle 
to  the  boatswain's  locker,  where  he  rummaged  among 
the  marline  spikes  and  serving  mallets  in  the  dark 
until  he  found  the  other  nine.  It  seemed  as  if  he 
turned  everything  in  that  locker  over  a  dozen 
times  before  he  found  the  last  one.  He  feared  it 
had  been  used  for  some  purpose,  or  lost ;  perhaps, 
out  of  pique,  the  mate  had  used  seven  instead  of 
six  to  ballast  Neptune  —  oh,  that  infernal  dog ! 
When  he  got  them  all  out,  he  hardly  knew  how  to 
manage.  They  were  too  heavy  to  be  carried  aft  at 
one  load,  and  somebody  from  one  of  the  other  vessels, 
seeing  him  working  so  hard,  might  come  and  offer 
to  help.  He  was  afraid  to  leave  them  lying  on  deck 
while  he  went  aft,  so  he  shoved  eight  of  them  under 
the  heel  of  the  bowsprit,  and,  taking  one  in  each 
hand,  carried  them  below  and  hid  them  at  the  foot 
of  his  bunk. 

He  locked  the  door  again  and  returned  for  another 
load,  feeling  nervous  and  feverish.  On  his  way  aft 
his  foot  struck  a  ringbolt,  and  he  fell  at  full  length, 
whereat  the  two  bars  flew  out  of  his  hands  and  went 
clattering  along  the  deck.  He  picked  them  up,  the 
sweat  pouring  from  him  like  rain,  and  glanced  guilt- 
ily around. 


326  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

On  his  last  trip  forward  the  watchman  on  the  ship 
ahead  hailed  him.  "  What  the  deuce  are  ye  up  to, 
cap  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  sh'd  think  she  was  afire,  the 
way  you're  racin'  about.  Ye've  got  my  ol'  woman 
so  nervous  and  worked  up  she  can't  go  to  sleep." 
And  then  he  stood  there  and  talked  for  half  an  hour, 
until  Captain  Benton  excused  himself  on  the  plea 
of  feeling  chilly ;  and  with  a  sense  of  deep  thank- 
fulness he  transferred  the  last  of  his  treasures  below. 

This  was  a  memorable  night  in  Tom  Benton's 
life.  He  sat  until  nearly  morning,  building  castles 
in  the  air.  Now  his  brightest  dreams  would  be  real- 
ized—  what  a  ship  he  would  build!  And  Kitty 
Blake !  All  his  plans  and  hopes,  his  ambitions  and 
aspirations,  brought  him  back  each  time  to  her.  How 
proud  she  would  be,  and  how  glad !  In  imagination 
he  could  hear  her  say,  "  I  always  knew  you  would 
succeed,  Tom."  To  be  sure,  he  was  obliged  to  admit 
that  his  possession  of  this  wealth  was  not  due  to  any 
great  achievement  of  his ;  it  was  luck,  that  was  all, 
just  good  luck.  But  then  he  decided  not  to  find 
fault  with  it  because  his  possession  of  it  was  not  due 
to  any  wonderful  qualifications  of  his  own ;  for,  after 
all,  he  had  done  what  he  could.  Without  friends 
or  assistance  he  had  worked  up  to  the  top,  and,  if 
this  was  luck  —  well,  he  had  had  enough  of  the  other 
kind,  too.  So  having,  metaphorically,  patted  himself 
on  the  back,  he  took  a  last  look  at  his  treasure,  went 


KING   SOLOMON'S   INGOTS  327 

over  the  door  and  window  fastenings  again,  loaded 
his  revolvers,  and  turned  in  to  dream  it  all  over  again. 

Next  morning,  after  hiding  the  nine  whole  bars  in 
a  barrel  half  full  of  flour,  he  wrapped  the  two  pieces 
in  a  silk  handkerchief  and  took  them  to  his  con- 
signee. He  frankly  told  the  whole  story  to  his 
friend ;  and  locking  the  larger  piece  in  his  safe, 
they  took  the  other  to  an  assayer  who  promised  to 
report  on  it  the  next  day.  They  then  made  an 
appointment  with  a  firm  of  wealthy  Jewish  brokers, 
to  have  a  man  authorized  to  act  for  them  at  the 
consignee's  office  at  twelve  o'clock  on  the  following 
day. 

Mr.  Davis,  the  consignee,  furnished  Captain  Ben- 
ton  with  a  trustworthy  porter,  who  carried  all  the 
stuff  to  the  office,  and  at  twelve  o'clock  the  three 
men  met,  —  Captain  Benton,  Mr.  Davis,  and  Herr 
Lindeman,  the  senior  partner  of  the  brokerage  firm. 
The  Jew  was  armed  with  a  delicate  pair  of  scales, 
acid,  a  powerful  magnifying  glass,  and  his  check- 
book. He  carefully  scrutinized  the  assayer's  cer- 
tificate which  stated  that  the  sample  contained  one 
hundred  and  thirty  pennyweights  of  gold,  twenty- 
two  carats  fine. 

Herr  Lindeman  filed  a  protest  against  accepting 
this  assay  as  applicable  to  the  entire  lot,  claiming 
that  there  might  not  be  another  bar  equally  fine. 
Captain  Benton  admitted  the  truth  of  his  objection, 


328  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

and  agreed  to  defer  the  transaction  until  the  whole 
lot  could  be  assayed ;  but  after  the  Herr  had  ex- 
amined the  bars  and  applied  his  test,  he  waived  his 
protest  and  announced  himself  ready  to  proceed.  It 
was  found  that  the  bars  weighed  exactly  alike.  This, 
the  Jew  said,  was  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  molten 
metal  had  been  weighed  before  pouring  into  the 
moulds.  Accepting  his  bid  as  a  basis,  it  was  found 
that  the  bars  were  worth  two  thousand  five  hundred 
dollars  each. 

Mr.  Davis  called  Tom  aside,  and  advised  him  not 
to  be  too  precipitate  in  accepting  this  offer.  While 
they  were  talking,  the  Jew  had  been  examining  the 
stamps,  of  which  there  were  three  on  each  bar. 
He  had  his  magnifying  glass  on  them,  and,  in  spite 
of  his  training,  betrayed  considerable  excitement. 
He  looked  up  as  they  returned  and  asked :  — 

"  Mine  frent,  vere  dit  you  get  dat  stamp  vat  you 
haf  on  dose  ingots  ?" 

"  It  was  on  them  when  I  got  them,"  replied  Tom. 

"  Is  dot  poseeble  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  "  he  asked, 
displaying,  in  spite  of  himself,  marked  agitation. 

"  Quite  sure.  I  have  done  nothing  to  them  except 
to  cut  this  one." 

"  And  vere  dit  you  get  dem,  if  you  bleese,  cap- 
tine  ? " 

Tom  laughed.  "  Oh,  they're  all  right!"  said  he; 
"you needn't  be  alarmed;  I  came  honestly  by  them," 


KING   SOLOMON'S   INGOTS  329 

"  Oh,  certainly,  certainly !  You  take  mistake,  cap- 
tine.  I  mean  dot  not;  but  I  like  to  know,  if  you 
bleese.  You  see  I  am  much  interestet." 

As  there  was  no  good  reason  for  concealment, 
Tom  gave  him  a  brief  account  of  how  they  came 
into  his  possession.  He  noticed,  as  he  told  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  ancient  wreck,  that  the  Jew's  eyes 
sparkled.  He  was  indeed  much  interested.  At 
the  conclusion  of  the  tale,  Herr  Lindeman  nervously 
stroked  his  black  beard  and  said :  — 

"  I  tank  you  ferry  much  for  de  story,  captine.  It 
ees  ferry  fine ;  ferry  interesting.  But,  shentlemen, 
time  ees  money.  I  vill  now,  of  you  bleese,  write 
you  de  check ;  and  so,  ve  feenish  our  leedle  dran- 
sactions."  And,  with  a  grin  that  was  intended  for 
a  smile,  he  opened  his  check-book. 

But  here  Captain  Benton,  mindful  of  his  friend's 
advice,  called  a  halt.  He  told  the  Herr  that  he  had 
only  asked  him  to  bid  on  the  stuff,  remarking  that 
it  would  hardly  be  considered  good  business  to  accept 
the  first  offer. 

The  Jew  became  intensely  alive  at  this.  "Vy, 
captine  !  My  tear  sir  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Dit  you  not 
figger  up  de  amount  yourselluf  ?  Vot  is  it,  dem 
ingots  ?  Gold,  huh  ?  dot's  all !  For  vat  shall  you 
hav  oder  beeple  come  into  de  peesness  ?  Vill  dey 
bay  you  more  ash  it  iss  vort  ?  I  dink  not.  I  haf 
shpend  two  hours  on  dis  peesness  alretty,  unt  shall 


330  TOM  BENTON'S   LUCK 

it  not  be  feenish  ?  For  vy  not  ?  I  no  unnerstan' 
you." 

And  so  he  ran  on,  getting  more  excited,  and  talk- 
ing louder  and  faster  until,  in  sheer  desperation,  he 
raised  his  own  bid  five  per  cent. 

Although  Captain  Benton  was  no  business  man, 
he  was  a  born  Yankee ;  so,  when  a  Jew  offered  more 
for  a  thing  than  it  was  worth,  his  instinct  taught 
him  to  hold  off;  and  he  did.  He  leaned  back,  bal- 
ancing his  chair  on  its  hind  legs,  and,  with  both 
hands  thrust  deep  into  his  trousers  pockets,  gazed 
coldly  and  pitilessly  at  the  tortured  son  of  Abraham. 

Herr  Lindeman  talked  and  argued ;  he  squirmed 
on  his  seat  and  perspired,  as  vainly  he  raised  his 
price,  a  few  dollars  at  a  time.  Then  he  jumped  it 
by  hundreds,  —  by  thousands  ;  until  at  last,  almost 
grovelling  on  the  floor,  he  offered  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars for  the  bullion  whose  value  was  only  twenty-five. 

Amazed,  almost  fearful  for  the  man's  sanity,  Cap- 
tain Benton  cried,  "  I  accept." 

The  Jew  sank  back  in  his  chair.  His  face  was  a 
ghastly  yellow,  and  his  chin  quivered  as  he  mopped 
the  perspiration  from  his  brow.  "  Father  Abram, 
I  been  a  mint  man !  "  he  murmured.  "  I  haf  to  go 
to  de  poorhouse  vonce  !  "  But  he  quickly  recovered, 
and,  as  if  fearing  Tom  might  repent,  he  hastily  filled 
out  and  signed  a  check  for  the  amount.  As  he 
handed  it  over  and  clutched  his  hawk-like  claws  on 


KING   SOLOMON'S    INGOTS  331 

the  receipt,  he  asked  Captain  Benton  if  he  was  sat- 
isfied.' 

"  Perfectly,"  replied  Tom. 

"  Me  too,"  said  the  Jew ;  "  I  mek  goot  peeseness 
to-day !  I  don'  care  ven  I  nefer  mek  no  more  peese- 
ness. I  been  plenty  reesh  now.  Shendlemen,  haf 
somedings  mit  me  ?  " 

A  splendid  lunch  was  served  in  the  office  at  Herr 
Lindeman's  expense.  He  was  a  generous  host;  and, 
after  regaling  themselves  right  royally,  they  lighted 
Reina  Victorias,  and  blew  a  fragrant  cloud. 

"  I  haf  von  leedle  favor  to  ask  you,  captine,"  said 
the  Jew.  "  I  like  dot  you  mek  von  affidavit  for  me, 
'bout  de  vay  you  fin'  dose  ingots ;  vot  ?  " 

Tom  replied  that  he  would  give  him  the  affidavit 
if  in  return  he  would  tell  them  why  he  had  paid  such 
an  exorbitant  price  for  the  bars.  The  Herr  did  not 
take  kindly  to  the  suggestion.  "  It  vas  nodding," 
he  "like  to  haf  dem,"  and  so  forth,  but  when  Tom 
declined  to  furnish  the  affidavit,  or  even  to  testify 
before  witnesses,  he  surrendered.  After  binding 
them  to  secrecy  he  said  that  there  existed,  in  all  the 
large  cities  of  the  world,  branches  of  a  great  Jewish 
secret  society,  of  which  none  but  the  very  wealthy 
were  able  to  pay  the  exorbitant  fees.  He  denied 
belonging  to  the  society  himself,  and  was  therefore 
ignorant  of  its  object,  but  he  knew,  however,  that 
members  were  zealous  collectors  of  everything  bear- 


332  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

ing  on  the  history  of  ancient  Judea,  and  purchased 
all  articles  of  this  kind  that  were  offered,  paying  for 
them  generously.  They  sometimes  found  an  impor- 
tant link  missing  in  their  historical  chain,  and  in 
such  cases  the  faithful  throughout  the  world  were 
notified,  through  the  synagogues,  that,  on  presenta- 
tion of  the  desired  object,  accompanied  by  satisfac- 
tory corroborative  evidence,  a  liberal  reward  would 
be  forthcoming. 

More  than  four  hundred  years  ago  the  central 
lodge  in  Vienna  had  come  into  possession  of  a  fac- 
simile of  the  seal  or  stamp  with  which  all  the  pre- 
cious metals  belonging  to  King  Solomon  had  been 
marked.  It  was  the  official  seal  of  his  royal  mint, 
or  treasure  house.  The  most  exhaustive  research 
up  to  the  present  time  had  failed  to  produce  any 
article  bearing  the  seal,  although  it  was  known 
that  the  fortunate  discoverer  could  name  his  own 
price. 

"  Shentlemen,"  concluded  Herr  Lindeman,  "I 
haf  der  only  tvendy-nine  of  dem  seals  in  der  vorld  — 
der  captine  he  shpile  von  mit  his  voolishness — vot 
you  tink  ?  I  been  all  right,  huh  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Captain  Benton. 
"I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  got  them  all.  There 
may  be  hundreds  of  them  lying  there  yet." 

Herr  Lindeman's  jaw  dropped  and  his  sallow  face 
flushed.  "  So-o-o  ? "  he  asked  in  a  tone  of  deep 


KING   SOLOMON'S   INGOTS  333 

concern.  "  Veil,  vy  tit'n  you  tole  me  dot  before  ? " 
Then,  recovering  himself,  he  rose  hurriedly.  "  You 
vill  oxcuse  me,  shentlemen,"  said  he;  "peesness  is 
peesness.  I  vas  bleesed  to  have  meet  you,  captine, 
unt  you  too,  sir.  Good-tay,  shentlemen  !  "  And  he 
was  off. 

Twenty-four  hours  later,  in  response  to  an  urgent 
telegram  from  "  Lindeman  &  Co.,  London,"  their 
confidential  South  African  agent  left  Table  Bay  on 
a  swift  steamer  for  the  Arabian  Sea.  On  his  return 
he  telegraphed  his  principals  that,  owing  to  a  recent 
typhoon,  all  traces  of  the  ancient  wreck  had  been 
washed  away. 

Being  now  provided  with  ample  means,  Tom 
wrote  to  the  Barracoota  s  owners,  resigning  his  posi- 
tion and  asking  to  be  relieved  as  soon  as  possible, 
as  he  was  anxious  to  return  to  the  States.  Six 
weeks  later  the  new  captain  arrived,  and,  after 
turning  the  old  vessel  over  to  him,  Captain  Benton 
took  passage  on  the  first  ship  to  New  York.  He 
made  no  stop  there,  but  took  the  train  to  Boston, 
and  from  there  he  went  direct  to  Thomaston  and 
contracted  for  the  building  of  a  two-thousand-ton 
ship.  Her  keel  was  laid  within  thirty  days,  and 
eleven  months  later,  the  Socotra  was  launched,  as 
fine  a  specimen  of  the  shipbuilder's  art  as  ever  slid 
from  the  ways  in  the  Pine  Tree  State. 

His  boyish  ambition  still  swayed  him.     The  time 


334  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

had  arrived  when  he  had  as  fine  a  ship  of  his  own 
as  ever  flew  the  stars  and  stripes.  Now  he  could 
afford  to  indulge  his  pride  —  just  once.  He  took 
his  new  ship  under  sail  round  to  Portland ;  ostensibly 
to  procure  stores,  but  really  to  show  her  to  the  na- 
tives —  and  Kitty  Blake. 

It  was  a  proud  day  for  Tom  Benton,  his  cheeks 
glowed  and  his  heart  beat  high,  when,  with  a  fair 
wind,  his  gallant  ship  swung  around  Cape  Elizabeth. 
How  familiar  it  all  looked!  He  caught  himself 
watching  out  unconsciously  for  the  Sprite.  But  it 
was  seven  years  since  the  Sprite  boarded  the  Colum- 
bia, and  she  had  undergone  many  vicissitudes 
since  then,  being  now  degraded  to  the  humble  but 
honest  calling  of  delivering  lobsters.  As  soon  as 
his  ship  was  anchored,  Tom  went  ashore.  Portland 
had  changed  but  little.  A  new  building  here  and 
there  was  all  he  noticed  in  the  way  of  improve- 
ments. Nearly  all  the  old  familiar  signs,  only  a  little 
older  and  dingier,  met  his  gaze.  He  dropped  into 
a  ship  chandlery  where  he  had  been  well  known  as  a 
boy,  and  to  his  surprise,  the  leathery-visaged,  chin- 
whiskered  proprietor  called  him  by  name  at  once, 
but  with  as  little  evidence  of  interest  as  though  he 
had  stepped  out  of  the  door  but  five  minutes  before. 
When  he  learned,  however,  that  Tom  was  captain 
of  the  big  new  ship  that  had  just  arrived,  he  began 
to  solicit  business  at  once.  Tom  saw  many  men  in 


KING   SOLOMON'S   INGOTS  33$ 

the  street  whom  he  knew;  but,  as  he  had  allowed 
his  beard  to  grow,  few  recognized  him. 

He  remained  in  Portland  three  days,  buying  sup- 
plies and  inquiring  in  a  roundabout  bashful  way  for 
Kitty  Blake.  All  he  could  learn  was,  that  old 
Rufus  had  died  at  about  the  time  of  his  departure, 
and  that  his  daughter  had  been  taken  in  charge  by 
Mr.  Hayward.  There  it  seemed  the  information 
was  bound  to  stop,  the  Haywards  having  gone 
south  for  Mrs.  Hay  ward's  health.  Hoping  to  learn 
something  from  their  neighbors,  he  called  at  the 
house  next  door,  where  a  gossipy  old  lady  who  an- 
swered his  ring  told  him  that  Captain  Blake's 
daughter  had  been  killed  in  a  railroad  accident  two 
years  ago. 

The  sun  seemed  to  go  out,  as  Tom  clutched  the 
side  of  the  door  for  support.  Kitty  had  seemed 
very  real  to  him  since  he  had  been  in  Portland.  He 
had  expected — had  hoped  —  to  meet  her  in  the  street. 
And  now  to  hear  such  a  tale  as  that!  A  story  of 
violent  death  in  a  railway  accident.  Kitty  killed 
with  all  the  horrible  accompaniments  which  imagina- 
tion could  conjure  up  !  It  was  horrible.  When  the 
old  lady  observed  the  effect  of  her  calmly  spoken 
words,  she  manifested  much  concern.  "Are  you  a 
relative,  sir  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  controlling  his  voice  with  diffi- 
culty, "  only  a  friend.  But  I  have  been  away  at  sea 


336  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

for  the  last  seven  years  —  we  were  children  together 
—  and  —  it  is  so  sudden.  I  cannot  realize  that  she 
has  been  dead  so  long  —  and  by  such  a  death !  " 

Poor  Tom !  Having  been  at  sea  all  his  life,  he 
did  not  know  how  seldom  the  dreams  of  childhood 
and  youth  are  realized.  He  hastened  his  departure 
after  that  —  his  petty  triumph  had  fallen  flat.  For 
a  few  days,  the  Socotra  looked  almost  hateful  to  him ; 
the  decks  were  dirty  and  littered  with  stores ;  riggers 
and  stevedores  overran  her  and  she  was  much  di- 
shevelled. 

But  Tom  Benton  was  too  well  inured  to  disap- 
pointments to  succumb  even  to  such  a  crushing  blow 
as  this,  so  he  took  his  ship  to  New  York  and  laid 
her  on  for  San  Francisco.  He  made  a  fair  passage 
out,  —  a  hundred  and  twenty-seven  days,  —  discharged 
his  cargo,  and  reloaded  for  London. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

HOMEWARD  BOUND CAPTAIN    NICK    TYLER A  LEAKY 

OLD    RATTLETRAP THROUGH    THE    CENTRE  OF    THE 

STORM  —  WATER-LOGGED  —  THE  "SOCOTRA"   TO  THE 
RESCUE  —  FACE    TO    FACE 

FOR  two  years  Mrs.  De  Lacey  and  Kitty  Blake 
travelled  on  the  continent,  visiting  all  the  European 
capitals  and  principal  cities.  They  patronized  art 
in  Italy,  dodged  the  dogs  and  porters  in  the  narrow 
streets  of  Constantinople,  crossed  over  to  Alexandria, 
and  rode  the  funny  little  donkeys  out  to  Pompey's 
Pillar,  vainly  tried  to  answer  the  sphinx's  riddle, 
climbed  the  great  pyramid,  drank  tea  under  the  sur- 
veillance of  the  Tsar's  police  in  St.  Petersburg,  and 
returned  to  listen  to  German  music  in  Berlin.  In 
short,  they  went  the  rounds.  It  was  a  series  of 
never-ending  pleasure  to  the  little  girl  from  Maine ; 
for  Mrs.  De  Lacey  was  determined  that  Kitty  should 
have  all  available  good  things.  The  old  lady  re- 
newed her  youth  in  ministering  to  the  enjoyment  of 
her  young  charge,  while  Kitty  prosecuted  her  studies 
faithfully,  and,  as  they  travelled  slowly,  remaining 
as  long  as  they  chose  in  the  different  cities,  she 
z  337 


338  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

became  fairly  proficient  in  French,  German,  and 
Italian  —  Russian,  she  decided  after  a  short  trial, 
to  let  alone.  Her  musical  education  received  a 
finishing  polish  in  Germany ;  so  that  the  once  hoy- 
denish  Portland  lass  developed  into  a  handsome, 
accomplished,  and  self-reliant  young  lady. 

The  style  in  which  they  lived  and  travelled  caused 
it  to  be  noised  about  that  Kitty  was  an  American 
heiress,  and  consequently  there  were  no  end  of 
French,  German,  and  Italian  princelings  trailing  in 
her  wake.  But  Kitty  was  loyal  to  the  memory  of 
her  girlhood's  playmate,  —  sturdy  Tom  Benton,  the 
boy  who,  wronged  by  her  father,  had  gone  out  alone 
and  bravely  to  carve  his  own  way  in  the  world. 
Kitty  believed  in  Tom.  She  knew  he  would  succeed 
just  as  she  knew  the  sun  would  rise  on  the  morrow. 
Long  ago  she  had  confided  her  little  romance  to 
Mrs.  De  Lacey ;  and  that  good  soul,  remembering 
her  own  happy  married  life,  sympathized  with  her 
heartily. 

Having  pretty  well  completed  the  circuit  of  the 
continent,  Kitty  desired  to  return  home.  Mrs.  Hay- 
ward  wrote  saying  that  her  health  was  failing ;  and 
she  believed  that  if  Kitty  were  at  home  she  would 
be  more  likely  to  hear  from  Tom.  This,  together 
with  a  natural  longing  for  the  familiar  scenes  and 
language  of  her  own  country,  combined  to  make  her 
somewhat  homesick.  Mrs.  De  Lacey  did  not  encour- 


THE   "SOCOTRA"  TO  THE   RESCUE  339 

age  this  train  of  thought.  There  was  nothing  to 
attract  her  to  America,  and  she  entertained  a  selfish 
fear  that  Kitty  might  become  estranged  from  her 
when  she  came  again  among  her  own  people.  Then 
there  was  Tom ;  a  somewhat  indefinite  possibility,  to 
be  sure,  but  still  a  possibility.  Besides,  Mrs.  De 
Lacey  did  not  share  Kitty's  love  of  the  sea  ;  indeed, 
she  disliked  it  heartily,  as  she  was  always  seasick. 
But,  observing  that  Kitty  was  becoming  thin  and 
pale,  that  she  was  growing  nervous,  and  losing 
interest  in  all  things  European,  she  acknowleged 
with  a  sigh  that,  dearly  as  she  loved  her  charge,  she 
had  no  right  to  keep  her  all  to  herself. 

As  Kitty  had  ceased  bothering  her  kind  friend  with 
importunities,  she  was  agreeably  surprised  when, 
as  they  were  strolling  on  the  beach  at  Ostend  one 
morning,  Mrs.  De  Lacey  remarked  quite  abruptly  : 
"  To-morrow  we  take  the  train  for  Havre." 

"Havre?"  questioned  Kitty,  in  surprise.  "Why, 
I  thought  we  were  to  go  to  Brussels  from  here." 

"That  was  my  original  intention,  my  dear,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  De  Lacey,  kindly,  "  but  I  have  changed 
my  plans.  We  will  go  to  Havre,  and  from  there 
take  ship  to  New  York." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  !  "  cried  Kitty,  eagerly ;  then, 
detecting  a  shade  of  disappointment  on  her  com- 
panion's face,  she  checked  herself,  and  added  :  "  But 
you  don't  wish  to  return  yet,  aunty !  Don't,  I  beg 


340  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

of  you,  change  your  plans  on  my  account.  I  should 
really  like  to  see  Brussels  —  and  the  Antwerp  cathe- 
dral with  its  old  paintings,"  she  added  dutifully. 

Mrs.  De  Lacey  smiled.  "  You're  a  dear,  good 
girl,  Kitty  !  "  said  she,  gazing  affectionately  into  the 
eager  brown  eyes ;  "  but  I  realize  that  it  is  wrong  in 
me  to  keep  you  so  long  from  those  other  friends 
who  have  a  prior  claim  on  you.  Tom,  for  instance," 
she  added  with  a  sly  twinkle. 

So  it  came  about,  that  a  week  later,  our  two 
friends  found  themselves  the  only  cabin  passengers, 
on  board  the  Sutherland,  bound  for  New  York. 
Captain  Nick  Tyler  was  highly  pleased  at  having 
two  such  agreeable  ladies  as  shipmates  on  his 
passage  to  the  westward ;  for  though  he  had  been 
married  a  score  of  years,  and  was  as  gray  as  old 
Neptune  himself,  Captain  Nick,  like  all  genuine 
sailormen,  was  fond  of  the  ladies,  and  he  assured 
his  two  passengers  that  they  could  not  have  chosen 
a  more  comfortable  craft  than  his  ship. 

"  Not  quite  as  fast  as  some  of  these  new  ones," 
said  he,  "  but  very  comfortable ;  and  safe,  ladies, 
perfectly  safe.  I've  sailed  her  for  twenty-five  years 
and  never  lost  a  passenger.  I  love  the  old  ship, 
madam,"  with  a  profound  bow  to  Mrs.  De  Lacey, 
"  because  it  was  here  in  this  very  cabin  that  I  first 
saw  the  lady  who  afterwards  became  my  wife,  and 
is  now  the  mother  of  three  as  fine  young  men  as 


THE   "SOCOTRA"   TO  THE   RESCUE  341 

you'd  wish  to  see.  Two  of  'em  —  the  two  oldest  — 
are  mates  in  this  same  line,  and  the  other,  mate  of 
a  big  deep-water  ship.  She  occupied  the  stateroom 
to  which  I  have  assigned  you,  miss,  —  "  another  pro- 
found bow,  this  time  to  Kitty,  — "  and  I  must  say, 
that,  until  the  present  time,  I  have  never  seen  it 
occupied  by  so  fair  a  lady." 

Verily,  Captain  Nick  was  a  corker. 

All  he  had  said  in  praise  of  his  ship  was  true. 
She  was  a  comfortable  craft ;  but  she  was  also  old. 
She  had  just  come  across  with  a  cargo  of  cotton, 
and  the  Galveston  cotton  jammers  had  nearly 
screwed  her  sides  out,  while  a  seaman  would  have 
noted  that  the  handles  of  her  pump-brakes  were 
polished  by  continual  use.  Captain  Tyler  proposed 
docking  her  on  her  arrival  in  New  York,  and  having 
extensive  repairs  made,  including  sister  keelsons  and 
other  strengthening  devices. 

They  sailed  from  Havre  on  a  pleasant  morning, 
the  ladies  taking  their  last  view  of  the  land  before 
going  down  to  dinner.  The  hourly  clanking  of  the 
pump  was  quite  noticeable  in  the  cabin.  It  rather 
annoyed  Mrs.  De  Lacey,  and  she  asked  the  captain 
what  it  was. 

"  That  is  the  pump,  madam.  The  watch  are 
just  giving  it  a  bit  of  a  jog,"  he  answered  non- 
chalantly. 

"  Why,  I  have  heard  that  before,"  said  Kitty.     "It 


342  TOM    BENTON'S   LUCK 

seems  to  be  going  about  all  the  time.  I  hope  the 
ship  doesn't  leak,  captain  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear  young  lady,  not  at  all.  She 
barely  makes  enough  water  to  keep  her  sweet,  I 
assure  you.  But  I  always  like  to  be  careful  when  I 
have  passengers,  ladies  especially,  so  I  have  given 
orders  to  have  the  pump  tried  hourly." 

Before  they  emerged  from  the  Channel  the  pumps 
were  tried  half-hourly.  Kitty  noticed  the  increase  at 
once,  but  would  not  alarm  Mrs.  De  Lacey  by  speaking 
of  it.  Captain  Tyler  was  very  polite,  and  refrained 
from  alluding  to  the  matter  himself,  so  she  did  not 
like  to  impeach  his  former  statement  by  asking  ques- 
tions. The  weather  remained,  if  not  exactly  fine,  fair 
for  the  North  Atlantic  until  they  arrived  near  the 
Azores,  when  it  began  to  cloud  up,  a  heavy  swell 
came  from  the  westward,  and  it  looked  "  dirty." 
The  light  kites  were  doused  one  after  another,  and 
as  the  wind  increased,  the  old  ship  groaned  and 
shrieked  from  the  effects  of  the  injuries  inflicted  on 
her  by  the  Galveston  screwmen,  and  the  pump  now 
" jogged"  almost  continuously.  As  the  wind  in- 
creased, Captain  Tyler  made  frequent  visits  to  the 
cabin.  Kitty,  who  was  alert  for  signs  of  trouble, 
noticed  that  he  looked  carefully,  even  anxiously, 
at  the  barometer  every  time  he  came  down,  and  on 
his  return  to  the  deck  she  would  hear  him  bellowing 
orders  to  the  mates  which  were  followed  by  sounds 


THE   "SOCOTRA"   TO  THE   RESCUE  343 

of  flapping  canvas,  and  a  great  "yo-hoing"  by  the 
sailors,  which  she  knew  indicated  a  reduction  of  sail. 
The  ship  was  now  laboring  heavily.  Mrs.  De  Lacey 
had  retired,  so  occupied  with  the  miseries  of  sea-sick- 
ness that  she  had  no  thought  for  anything  else. 
The  gale  continued  for  three  days ;  then  there  was 
a  twelve-hour  interlude,  and  it  piped  more  furiously 
than  ever.  Kitty  was  becoming  frightened.  She 
had  listened  in  vain  for  a  cessation  of  the  pumping 
during  the  preceding  twenty-four  hours.  The  mo- 
notonous "clank-clank,  chug-chug"  could  be  heard 
in  the  cabin  at  all  hours,  even  above  the  howling  of 
the  gale  and  the  working  of  the  ship's  timbers. 

At  half-past  one  in  the  middle  watch  Captain 
Tyler  came  down.  Kitty,  unable  to  sleep,  was 
lying  dressed  in  her  berth,  having  kept  her  door 
open  for  the  sake  of  ventilation.  She  watched  him 
as  he  stood  with  his  long  oilskin  coat  glistening  wet 
in  the  dim  light.  He  steadied  himself  by  the  table, 
and  peered  from  under  his  sou'wester  at  the  barom- 
eter, and  she  heard  him  make  a  startled  exclamation 
as  he  turned  and  lurched  toward  the  companion  steps. 

She  leaped  lightly  from  her  berth,  steadied  herself 
in  the  doorway  as  the  ship  staggered  under  the  blows 
of  the  great  seas,  and  called  him. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  said  he,  in  a  surprised 
tone,  "  what  are  you  doing  up  and  dressed  at  this 
time  of  night  ?  Go  to  bed,  I  beg  of  you." 


344  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"I  can't  sleep,  captain.  Tell  me  the  truth,  —  I 
am  a  sailor's  daughter,  —  is  not  the  ship  in  danger  ? 
I  hear  the  pump  going  all  the  time,  and  it  seems 
that  every  time  one  of  those  big  seas  hits  her  she 
almost  goes  to  pieces." 

He  looked  over  her  shoulder  instead  of  straight 
into  her  eyes,  as  usual,  and  she  noticed  it.  "  No 
danger  at  all,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  replied ; 
"that  is,"  he  added,  "  not  more  than  usual.  Of 
course  there  is  always  some  danger  at  sea.  There's 
a  capful  of  wind  just  now,  but  nothing  to  what  I've 
been  through  in  the  old  ship,  many  a  time.  I  keep 
the  pumps  going,  of  course  —  I  explained  that  to 
you  before.  Now  please  retire.  I  shall  be  on  deck 
all  night,  and  you  may  feel  perfectly  easy." 

"  May  not  I  come  on  deck,  too  ?  I  should  like  to 
see  how  it  looks  out  there." 

"  Impossible,  my  dear  young  lady ;  you  would  be 
wet  through  the  minute  you  put  your  head  out,  and 
you  couldn't  see  anything  —  there's  nothing  but 
blackness  out  there.  If  you  will  just  lie  down  in 
your  berth  and  close  your  eyes,  you  will  be  able  to 
see  as  much  as  you  could  from  the  royal  yard.  Now 
go  to  bed,  do !  I  must  go  on  deck  again." 

Far  from  satisfied  with  her  interview,  Kitty  re- 
turned to  her  berth ;  and  in  spite  of  the  clanking 
of  the  pump,  and  the  internal  complainings  of  the 
overstrained  hull,  was  soon  sound  asleep. 


THE   "SOCOTRA"  TO  THE   RESCUE  345 

On  deck,  Captain  Tyler  stood  hanging  on  to 
a  weather  mizzen  topmast  backstay.  There  was 
a  tarpaulin  stretched  across  the  weather  rigging,  — 
the  only  speck  of  canvas  she  carried,  —  and  under 
the  lee  of  this  he  stood.  The  wind  howled  like 
a  legion  of  devils ;  the  big  Atlantic  combers,  their 
crests  illuminated  with  phosphorescent  spray,  loomed 
suddenly  and  fearfully  out  of  the  blackness.  They 
hammered  and  pounded  the  poor  old  ship  as  if  they 
knew  that  at  last  she  who  had  successfully  defied 
their  power  for  nearly  half  a  century  was  to  become 
their  prey.  Captain  Tyler's  mind  was  racked  as  it 
had  never  been  racked  before.  Veteran  as  he  was, 
the  storm  had  deceived  him.  The  old-fashioned 
wooden  compass  spun  round  so  that  he  could  not 
be  sure  how  she  headed,  but  the  ever-changing  direc- 
tion of  the  seas  had  almost  convinced  him  that  he 
was  in  one  of  those  terrible  revolving  storms  known 
to  seamen  as  cyclones.  His  last  visit  to  the  barom- 
eter, when  he  was  betrayed  into  using  that  forcible 
expletive,  had  confirmed  that  fear. 

What  particularly  worried,  ay,  shamed  him,  was 
the  fact  that  he,  Old  Nick  Tyler,  was  caught  in  this 
storm  on  the  wrong  tack.  If  she  had  been  on  the 
other  tack,  she  would  have  drifted  out  of  it,  but  now 
her  drift  would  take  her  through  the  very  centre 
of  this  whirling  hell  of  shrieking  wind  and  raging 
water,  and  it  was  too  late  to  wear  ship.  On  passing 


346  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

the  central  calm,  he  would  have  to  fight  his  way 
through  it  all  over  again.  The  water  in  the  hold  was 
gaining  steadily,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  nearly 
worn-out  crew  kept  the  pump  going  incessantly. 
If  he  had  not  those  passengers  —  those  two  helpless, 
confiding  women  —  on  his  hands,  his  mind  would  be 
easier. 

Suddenly  he  became  aware  that  the  wind  was 
dying  out ;  the  crisis  was  upon  them.  He  must  get 
her  headed  round  before  the  reverse  side  of  the 
storm  struck  her,  or  she  would  founder. 

Deprived  of  the  restraining  force  of  the  wind,  she 
rolled  fearfully.  He  expected  his  masts  to  go  by  the 
board  from  the  whiplike  strains.  Rapidly  he  shouted 
his  orders  for  sail  to  be  made.  To  go  aloft  was 
about  equivalent  to  committing  suicide ;  but  the 
mates  were  thoroughbreds,  the  crew  of  mongrels 
feared  them  worse  than  they  did  the  elements  ;  so 
they  went ;  and  the  much-maligned  Yankee  mates 
were  vindicated  for  once.  As  there  was  little  or  no 
prospect  of  the  sail  being  furled  again,  the  captain 
ordered  the  gaskets  cut.  The  fore-topsail  was 
quickly  loosed  and  set,  and  the  tumbling  ship  fanned 
round  until  the  sea  was  abaft  the  beam.  Then  he 
clewed  up  his  topsail  and  hauled  out  his  spanker,  just 
in  time  to  catch  the  first  of  the  wind.  The  sails 
lived  but  a  moment,  but  that  was  enough.  Before 
they  flew,  like  puffs  of  steam,  away  into  the  lee 


THE   "SOCOTRA"   TO  THE   RESCUE  347 

blackness,  her  head  was  up  to  the  wind,  and  once 
more  the  gallant  old  packet  was  fighting  for  her  life. 

It  was  a  weary,  uphill  fight  —  a  hopeless  contest. 
The  dumbest  Scandinavian  sailor  knew  that.  They 
would  have  liked  to  stop  pumping,  seeing  how  use- 
less it  was ;  but,  here  again,  the  "  brutal "  Yankee 
mates  filled  the  bill,  and  the  crew  continued  to 
pump.  The  blackness  became  a  little  less  dense  — 
there  was  to  be  daylight.  But  of  what  value  is  day- 
light to  those  who  are  shortly  to  be  drowned  ? 

The  seas  were  now  visible  before  they  broke.  A 
gull  appeared  off  the  weather  quarter,  and  a  few  of 
Mother  Carey's  chickens  fluttered  about,  dipping 
their  wings  in  the  seething  brine  astern.  It  was  day- 
light—  gray,  miserable  daylight,  more  disheartening 
than  the  darkness,  for  they  could  now  see  the  hope- 
lessness of  their  case. 

The  mate,  haggard  and  bleary  from  want  of  sleep, 
came  up  from  the  main  deck  to  report  four  feet  of 
water  in  the  hold.  From  sheer  force  of  habit,  as  his 
head  rose  above  the  rail  he  glanced  to  windward, 
and  then,  half  strangled  by  the  wind  blowing  down 
his  throat,  he  shouted  :  "  Sail  ho  !  " 

The  men  heard  and  understood.  They  let  go  the 
pump-brake  to  go  and  look,  but  a  stern  "  Go  on  with 
that  pumpin' !  "  from  the  third  mate,  recalled  them 
to  their  duty.  Captain  Tyler  stepped  from  behind 
the  tarpaulin,  and  there,  a  couple  of  miles  to  wind- 


348  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

ward,  under  close-reefed  topsails,  fore-topmast-stay- 
sail, and  main  spencer,  he  saw  a  big  new  American 
ship.  She  was  a  goodly  sight,  as  she  heeled  grace- 
fully to  the  storm,  her  new  cotton  sails  looking  as 
bright  and  clean  as  those  of  a  yacht.  After  a  hasty 
conversation  between  the  captain  and  mate,  the  latter 
went  below,  returning  shortly  with  the  ensign,  which 
he  hoisted  union  down. 

There  was  a  feeble  cheer  from  the  slaves  at  the  pump. 

The  big  fellow  showed  his  colors,  the  code  was 
brought  into  requisition,  and  Captain  Tyler  learned 
that  his  neighbor  was  the  Socotra,  of  Thomaston, 
Maine  ;  Benton,  Master  ;  one  hundred  and  thirty  days 
out  from  San  Francisco  for  London. 

In  reply  he  gave  his  own  number,  and  asked  the 
ship  to  stand  by  him.  Captain  Benton  readily  con- 
sented, and  reduced  sail.  Kitty  pushed  the  compan- 
ion slide  back  and  looked  out.  She  saw  the  ship, 
admired  her,  and  observed  that  they  were  signalling. 
She  returned  to  the  cabin  much  easier  in  her  mind. 
There  was  help  at  hand  in  case  it  should  be  needed. 
Presently  Captain  Tyler  came  down  to  breakfast. 
He  was  as  polite  as  ever.  He  assured  the  ladies 
that  the  storm  would  not  last  much  longer,  and 
hoped  they  had  slept  well. 

Kitty  would  not  ask  him  if  they  were  in  danger  ; 
she  knew  he  would  deny  it,  and  felt  sure  he  would 
not  let  the  big  ship  leave  them  if  they  were. 


THE  "SQCOTRA"   TO  THE   RESCUE  349 

At  evening  much  of  the  viciousness  had  gone  out 
of  the  wind,  and  the  next  morning  found  her  with 
whole  topsails  on  her.  The  Socotra  was  barely  a 
mile  to  windward.  Signals  again  fluttered  from  the 
peaks  of  both  ships,  the  burden  of  whose  message 
was  that  Captain  Tyler  would  leave  his  vessel,  as 
she  was  sinking,  and  that  Captain  Benton  would 
lend  a  hand  to  take  them  off.  The  Sutherland's 
watch  below  were  called,  and  proceeded  to  get  up 
yard-arm  and  stay  tackles,  while  the  others 
pumped. 

The  stewardess  called  the  ladies,  saying  it  was 
Captain  Tyler's  request  that  they  should  breakfast 
as  speedily  as  possible,  while  she  packed  their  trunks. 
Kitty  understood,  but  Mrs.  De  Lacey  became  ner- 
vously inquisitive.  When  informed  that  the  Suther- 
land was  unseaworthy,  and  that  they  were  to  be 
transferred,  she  gave  way  entirely.  Kitty  talked 
soothingly  to  her,  and  while  they  were  making  a 
feeble  attempt  at  breakfast  Captain  Tyler  came 
down.  He  was  profuse  with  apologies.  The  ship 
had  been  strained,  and  the  last  storm,  the  worst  he 
had  ever  known,  had  proved  too  much  for  her. 
Were  it  not  for  the  ladies  he  should  not  dream  of 
abandoning  her ;  but  a  fine,  new,  and  much  larger 
ship  having  opportunely  appeared,  he  would  con- 
sider himself  derelict  in  his  duty  if  he  exposed 
them  to  even  a  shadow  of  danger. 


350  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  Are  you  going  to  leave  her  yourself,  captain  ?  " 
asked  Kitty,  rather  pointedly. 

"  Ahem !  Well,  yes,  my  dear  young  lady.  You 
see  at  this  season  of  the  year,  and  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  Grand  Banks,  it  would  hardly  be  good 
judgment  to  remain  on  board  under  the  circum- 
stances ;  though  I  dare  say,  if  the  weather  were 
not  too  rough,  we  might  fetch  in  all  right." 

He  avoided  Kitty's  suspicious  glance  while  making 
this  statement,  and  appeared  to  feel  greatly  relieved 
when  it  was  over. 

After  the  hurried  and  uncomfortable  breakfast, 
the  ladies,  warmly  wrapped,  were  escorted  on  deck 
by  Captain  Tyler.  The  gale  had  broken,  and  the 
clouds,  in  great  black  masses,  were  drifting  away, 
displaying  patches  of  sky  so  brightly  blue  between  the 
rifts  that  even  the  dull  Scandinavian  sailors  felt  its 
hopeful  augury.  The  Socotra,  now  within  an  easy 
half-mile  to  leeward,  whither  she  had  run  to  facili- 
tate the  transfer,  presented  a  beautiful  and  cheering 
shining  sight.  Everything  was  new  and  bright  on 
board  of  her ;  and  as  she  rolled  easily  on  the  great 
round-backed  swells  she  presented  glimpses  of  well- 
ordered  decks  that  were  a  fine  contrast  to  those  of 
the  old  Sutherland,  littered  with  ropes,  blocks,  and 
seamen's  dunnage.  Signals  were  again  exchanged, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  a  great  white  long-boat  rose 
from  the  Socotra  s  forward  house  and  swung  grace- 
fully over  her  side. 


THE   "SOCOTRA"  TO  THE   RESCUE        ,       351 

"  Get  a  side  ladder  along  here  for  the  ladies  !  " 
shouted  Captain  Tyler.  The  ladder  was  suspended 
from  the  lee  bumpkin  and  trailed  in  the  sea. 

"Do  you  expect  me  to  go  down  that  thing,  sir?" 
asked  Mrs.  De  Lacey,  indignantly. 

"  My  dear  madam,  it's  the  best  we  can  do,"  replied 
Captain  Tyler,  deprecatingly.  "  We'll  have  a  rope's 
end  fast  to  you,  and  I  doubt  not  you'll  be  all  right." 

"  Never,  sir !  A  rope's  end,  indeed !  I  don't 
think  you  are  treating  us  fairly,  Captain  Tyler  — 
making  a  spectacle  of  your  passengers  in  this  man- 
ner. I  won't  submit  to  it." 

By  this  time  the  Socotrcts  long-boat  was  under  the 
Sutherland's  stern.  The  third  mate,  who  was  in 
charge  of  her,  was  shouting  for  the  passengers  to 
be  sent  down ;  but  Mrs.  De  Lacey  refused  to  make 
a  move.  In  vain  both  Kitty  and  the  captain  ex- 
plained the  necessities  of  the  case  to  her.  At  last 
Kitty  said  :  "  I'll  go  first,  aunty.  I'm  sure  it's  not 
half  as  bad  as  it  looks." 

She  stepped  fearlessly  out  on  the  bumpkin,  a  rope 
was  passed  about  her  waist,  and  she  started  down. 
Before  she  had  descended  half  a  dozen  rounds,  the 
sailors  in  the  boat  seized  her,  shouted,  "  Let  go  ! " 
and  down  she  went  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat, 
as  on  the  receding  wave  it  fell  fathoms  away  from 
the  ship.  Mrs.  De  Lacey,  who  was  anxiously 
watching  Kitty's  progress,  screamed  hysterically 


352  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

when  she  saw  her  let  go  the  ladder.  In  a  sort  of 
maternal  frenzy,  she  tried  to  spring  after  her,  and 
did  partly  mount  the  taffrail. 

Captain  Nick  perceived  his  opportunity.  "  Quick, 
men  !  "  said  he.  "  A  bowline  here  !  "  A  seaman 
deftly  slipped  a  bowline  under  her,  the  lee  spanker 
vang  was  hooked  into  it,  and,  before  she  knew  what 
was  going  on,  she  was  swayed,  kicking  and  scream- 
ing, off  her  feet  Captain  Nick  bore  her  out  over 
the  quarter,  all  the  time  giving  orders  to  the  men 
at  the  vang.  "  Lower  —  lower  away  now  —  steady 
-  whoa,  hold  on  !  Lower  now  —  lively  —  lower  — 
-lower  —  let  go!"  The  long-boat  rose  under  her, 
and  a  sailor  grabbed  her  unceremoniously  by  the 
legs  and  pulled  her  into  it. 

She  had  been  shrieking  in  terror ;  and  when  she 
felt  herself  falling,  she  fainted  dead  away.  Kitty 
took  charge  of  her  in  the  stern  sheets ;  but  regard- 
less of  all  her  efforts  Mrs.  De  Lacey  remained  un- 
conscious until  some  time  after  she  was  snugly  tucked 
away  in  her  berth  on  board  the  Socotra.  The 
stewardess  descended  the  ladder  with  only  a  min- 
imum of  feminine  squealing  (as  befitted  her  posi- 
tion), the  ladies'  baggage  was  lowered  into  the  boat, 
and  the  six  sturdy  sailors  bent  their  oilskinned  backs 
to  the  oars. 

Captain  Benton  had  thoughtfully  rigged  a  whip 
on  his  lee  cro'jack  yard-arm,  and  slung  a  cabin 


THE  "SOCOTRA"  TO  THE   RESCUE  353 

chair  for  the  hoisting  aboard  of  his  fair  passengers. 
Mrs.  De  Lacey  was  secured  in  the  chair,  hoisted 
aboard,  and  carried  below  by  a  couple  of  sailors 
under  the  mate's  directions.  Then  Kitty  seated 
herself  in  it,  and  swung  for  a  moment  dizzily  be- 
tween wind  and  water. 

As  the  chair  rose  above  the  rail,  a  handsome 
young  man  hanging  by  one  hand  to  the  royal  back- 
stay, reached  out  and  pulled  it  inboard.  Kitty 
clutched  nervously  at  the  extended  arm,  and  looked 
Tom  Benton  squarely  in  the  eyes. 

2A 


CHAPTER   XXII 

BASHFUL     TOM      MAKES     POOR     PROGRESS  —  HE     MEETS 

SIR     JOHN A    CONFESSION  —  AN    INVITATION THE 

BETROTHAL    PARTY TOM     SHINES FRIENDLY    AD- 
VICE   TOM    SCREWS    UP    HIS    COURAGE  A    DOUBLE 

WEDDING HOMEWARD      BOUND OLD      FRIENDS  — 

OLD      SCENES  —  TOM      GETS     A      BERTH      ASHORE  — 
CONCLUSION 

THE  recognition  was  instantaneous  and  mutual; 
Kitty's  cheeks  flushed  and  her  eyes  sparkled  with 
pleasure.  Tom's  paled  and  his  mouth  came  open, 
as,  after  swinging  her  inboard,  he  stared  in  stupefied 
amazement  while  she  scrambled  unassisted  from  the 
chair. 

"  Oh,  Tom ! "  was  Kitty's  first  surprised  exclamation. 

"Why,  Kitty!"  he  replied,  still  more  surprised. 

Seeing  him  stand  there  so  awkwardly,  without 
a  word  of  welcome  or  an  offer  of  assistance,  Kitty's 
training  came  to  her  aid  and  she  froze  at  once  into 
a  state  of  becoming  dignity. 

"You  appear  surprised,"  said  she,  shaking  out  her 
ruffled  plumage  with  a  touch  of  pique. 

"  Excuse  me,"  replied  Captain  Benton,  recovering 
354 


CONCLUSION  355 

himself  and  making  a  futile  offer  of  the  service  which 
was  now  too  late,  "  it  would  hardly  be  strange  if  I 
were ;  I  heard  such  terrible  news  when  I  was  in 
Portland  a  year  ago." 

"  Terrible  news  ?  "  asked  Kitty,  paling  with  appre- 
hension of  —  she  knew  not  what. 

"  Yes,  Kitty  —  excuse  me  —  Miss  Blake  —  or  am 
I  wrong  again  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Kitty,  the  old  familiar  smile  returning. 
"  No,  I  am  still  Kitty ;  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  Miss 
Blake." 

Tom  did  not  prefer  it ;  but  thinking  it  safer,  con- 
tinued :  "  Yes,  Miss  Blake,  I  took  the  liberty  of 
inquiring  for  you  when  I  was  in  Portland,  and  I 
heard — well,  in  fact,  I  heard  that  you  had  been  killed 
in  a  railroad  accident,  a  long  time  before." 

"  I  don't  wonder  that  you  were  startled,  then,  on 
seeing  me  suddenly  hoisted  alive  and  kicking  —  did 
I  kick? — out  of  the  sea,"  said  Kitty,  with  a  merry 
laugh,  which  Tom  thought  was  the  sweetest  sound 
he  had  ever  heard.  She  glanced  along  the  magnifi- 
cent length  of  the  Socotrrfs  snowy  deck,  and  asked 
in  a  lower  tone,  "  Are  you  captain  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Tom,  with  a  flush  of  honest  pride  ; 
"captain  and  sole  owner." 

"  How  well  you  have  redeemed  your  promise ! 
I  always  knew  you  would.  Allow  me  to  congratu- 
late you,  Captain  Benton." 


356  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Tom  grasped  the  dainty  fingers  in  his  strong 
brown  palm,  and,  encouraged  by  the  frank  kindness 
of  her  manner,  said  rather  diffidently,  "  I  hope  you 
like  my  ship." 

"  I  do  indeed,  captain !  She  is  a  beauty !  I  am 
afraid  poor  papa  never  commanded  anything  half  so 
fine.  But  excuse  me ;  aunty  will  think  I  have  surely 
been  drowned.  Will  you  kindly  send  some  one  to 
conduct  me  to  her,  captain  ?  " 

"  I  will  show  you  the  way  myself,  if  you  please, 
Miss  Blake." 

When  Tom  returned  to  the  deck  to  receive  the 
rest  of  his  passengers  he  literally  trod  on  air.  He 
had  never  seen  the  sky  so  blue,  nor  the  sunshine  so 
brilliant.  Her  name  was  still  "Miss" — how  glad 
he  was  of  that !  As  he  looked  along  the  noble  length 
of  his  handsome  ship,  he  was  better  satisfied  with 
himself  than  he  had  ever  been  before.  The  trials 
and  disappointments  of  the  last  eight  years  were 
nothing  now.  He  ordered  the  steward  to  kill  the 
pig  and  give  all  hands  fresh  meat  and  plum-duff. 

When  Kitty  told  Mrs.  De  Lacey,  the  good  soul 
took  her  in  her  arms,  kissed  her  affectionately,  cried 
a  bit,  and  said,  "I'm  so  glad,  dear." 

Tom  Benton  was  an  utter  stranger  to  ladies'  soci- 
ety. He  had  not  even  the  remembrance  of  a  mother 
or  a  sister  to  guide  him.  He  had  always  believed  that 
women  —  all  women  —  were  angels,  and  that  Kitty 


CONCLUSION  357 

Blake  was  the  high  admiral  of  the  fleet.  Therefore 
he  was  humbly  bashful  in  her  presence.  He  had 
hoped  to  win  her  for  his  wife  ;  but  as  they  became 
better  acquainted,  and  he  found  what  a  very  superior 
young  lady  she  had  become,  he  felt  that,  in  spite  of 
his  fine  ship,  she  had  left  him  far  astern.  He  became 
almost  afraid  of  her.  Quick-witted  Kitty  saw  this, 
and  tried  to  put  him  at  his  ease ;  thereby  she  again 
demonstrated  her  infinite  superiority,  and  poor  Tom 
felt  as  awkward  and  out  of  place  as  a  walrus  in  a 
parlor. 

The  passengers  left  the  ship  at  Gravesend.  Cap- 
tain Tom  accompanied  them  to  town,  and  attended 
the  ladies  to  their  hotel.  He  received  a  cordial  hand- 
grasp  from  Kitty,  and  an  invitation  from  Mrs.  De 
Lacey  to  call  often. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  remarked  the  good  lady  after 
Tom  had  gone,  "  that  Captain  Benton  is  rather  diffi- 
dent ;  don't  you  think  so,  Kitty  ?  " 

"  Poor  Tom  !     I  know  what  the  trouble  is,  aunty, 

—  he  thinks  I'm  too  fine  for  him.     I  wish — I  wish 

-I  had  never  —  never  —  gone  to  school  a  minute, 

nor  —  nor  —  travelled  —  nor  anything  !  "    And   Kitty 

broke  down  and  wept. 

Mrs.  De  Lacey,  who  had  learned  to  admire  Tom, 
decided  that  some  one  would  have  to  take  the  bash- 
ful young  captain  in  hand  and  instruct  him  as  to  the 
lay  of  the  land ;  and  she  resolved,  like  the  good  soul 


358  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

she  was,  to  throw  herself  heroically  into  the  breach. 
But  we  are  told  that : 

"The  best  laid  schemes  of  mice  and  men  gang  aft  agley." 

In  this  case  the  schemes  of  women  were  included, 
for  somehow  the  fates  prevented  Mrs.  De  Lacey 
from  carrying  out  her  good  intention  ;  and,  though 
Tom  called  as  often  as,  to  his  uninstructed  mind, 
etiquette  permitted,  he  made  no  progress.  His  love- 
affair  was  most  disastrously  becalmed. 

He  took  long  walks  to  pass  the  time  and  ruminate 
on  his  unworthiness.  One  afternoon,  as  he  was 
strolling  moodily  down  Leadenhall  Street,  a  tall, 
athletic-built  gentleman,  sunburned  and  wholesome- 
looking,  came  striding  along  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. His  walk,  so  different  from  the  short,  dodging 
gait  of  the  city  business  men,  spoke  of  the  free  life 
of  the  bush,  the  veldt,  and  the  pampas.  He  shoul- 
dered the  opposing  pedestrians  aside  as  if  they  were 
but  the  fragile  growth  of  a  tropical  jungle.  Black 
looks  and  softly  —  very  softly  —  muttered  anathemas 
followed  him  ;  but  he  plunged  heedlessly  on.  He 
nearly  ran  Tom  down,  threw  him  a  hasty  glance, 
which  deepened  into  keen  scrutiny,  and  seizing  him 
roughly  by  the  shoulders,  exclaimed  :  — 

"  By  Jove  !  Tom  Benton !  Give  an  account  of 
yourself,  will  you  ?  Why  didn't  you  come  back, 
hey  ?  Where  did  you  go  to  ?  " 


CONCLUSION  359 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Sir  John?"  cried  Tom,  in 
pleased  surprise.  "  Who  would  ever  have  thought  of 
seeing  you  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  !  "  replied  Sir  John  Laidlaw. 
"I  have  a  right  to  be  here  —  this  is  my  country, 
you  know.  But  what  stroke  of  good  luck  brings 
you  here,  just  as  I  was  heartily  wishing  I  might 
find  somebody  besides  these  Londoners  to  talk  to  ?" 

As  it  was  the  hour  for  London's  tiffin,  Sir  John 
carried  Tom  off  to  his  club,  where  they  compared 
notes.  He  listened  with  interest  to  Tom's  account 
of  himself,  and  congratulated  him  heartily  on  his 
good  luck.  As  for  himself,  he  had  been,  as  he  ex- 
pressed it,  "banging  round  ever  since."  His  claim 
against  the  Venezuelan  government  had  been  al- 
lowed, and  he  might  collect  it  if  he  lived  forever. 
He  told  Tom  he  would  send  him  half  if  he  would 
give  him  his  address,  but  Tom  declined,  saying  that, 
having  appealed  to  his  own  government  at  the  time, 
he  would  abide  by  their  decision. 

Two  days  later  Sir  John  dined  on  board  the 
Socotra.  After  dinner,  with  the  cabin  filled  with  a 
convenient  haze  of  tobacco  smoke,  he  confessed 
that  he  was  shortly  to  be  married,  and  went  off  in 
a  lover's  rhapsody  concerning  the  charms  of  his 
betrothed.  He  wound  up  with  an  invitation  to  visit 
him  at  his  home  in  Kent,  where  he  promised  to  in- 
troduce Tom  to  the  lady,  "  By  the  way,"  he  added, 


360  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"  I  was  first  introduced  to  her  that  day  in  Caracas 
when  you  skipped  out ;  the  whole  family  were  on  a 
visit  to  Mr.  Lindsay.  We  met  at  dinner  that  same 
day." 

Tom  demurred  to  the  invitation.  He  was  not 
posted  in  the  usages  of  good  society,  his  friend  would 
be  sorry  he  had  asked  him,  and  his  friend's  friends 
would  not  care  for  his  company. 

"My  dear  boy!"  exclaimed  Sir  John,  "you  were 
never  more  mistaken  in  your  life.  You  have  the 
very  best  of  manners,  those  that  proceed  from  an 
honest  and  kind  heart.  I  have  often  spoken  of  you 
to  my  mother  and  my  sweetheart,  and  they  will  both 
be  very  much  pleased  to  see  you.  You  must  not 
think  that  ladies  admire  those  peaches-and-cream 
skinned  puppies  —  they  don't.  They  associate  with 
them  of  course,  they  have  to ;  but  Lord  bless  you,  my 
dear  boy,  when  a  fellow  like  you  or  me,  made  in  the 
image  of  God  instead  of  a  hair-dresser's  figure,  comes 
near  them,  they  know  the  difference.  And  as  for 
my  friends  not  according  you  a  welcome,  you  will 
be  there  as  my  friend  ;  and  you  can  bet  your  boots, 
Tom,  that  'where  McGregor  sits  is  the  head  of  the 
table.'  I'll  expect  you  next  Wednesday,  and  I  won't 
take  no  for  an  answer.  Good-bye  !  " 

When,  with  many  misgivings,  Tom  followed  his 
friend  into  the  handsome  drawing-rooms  of  the  ancient 
mansion  in  Kent,  he  found  himself  surrounded  by  a 


CONCLUSION  361 

company  of  British  aristocrats.  There  were  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  persons  present,  stiff,  pompous,  elderly 
people,  who  acknowledged  the  introduction  with  an 
air  of  condescension  that  rather  overawed  the  young 
skipper.  There  were  young  fellows  whose  immaculate- 
ness  made  him  feel  like  a  woodchopper  by  contrast, 
though  he  had  fitted  himself  out  with  a  brand-new 
rig  from  keel  to  truck,  and  ordered  the  tailor  to 
spare  no  expense. 

When  Sir  John  introduced  him  to  some  of  them, 
and  they  glanced  casually  at  him  through  their  eye- 
glasses, said  " Aw! "and  turned  away,  Tom  thought 
he  would  like  to  chase  them  out  on  a  topsail 
yard-arm  on  a  reefing  match,  or  send  them  down 
a  royal  stay  in  a  bowline  with  a  tar  pot.  By  the 
time  he  arrived  at  the  far  end  of  the  large  room, 
where  Sir  John's  mother  sat  in  state,  surrounded 
by  a  little  court  of  the  neighboring  dowagers,  he 
knew  the  perspiration  was  pouring  down  his  face, 
but  dared  not  use  his  handkerchief.  The  lady  saw 
his  embarrassment,  and  with  matronly  tact  received 
him  kindly,  inviting  him  to  a  seat  at  her  side.  But 
Sir  John,  who  also  perceived  Tom's  distress,  and 
doubted  his  mother's  ability  to  allay  it,  asked  where 
"  Nellie"  was. 

"I  think  you  will  find  her  over  by  the  bay  window," 
his  mother  replied,  "  with  a  party  of  the  young 
people." 


362  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

Sir  John  threw  Tom  the  end  of  his  towline  again, 
and  they  shaped  a  course  for  the  bay  window.  Miss 
Nellie  failed  to  observe  their  approach  ;  she  and  her 
particular  chum,  with  heads  together,  were  discussing 
some  matter  of,  no  doubt,  grave  feminine  importance. 

"  Miss  Druse,"  said  Sir  John,  "allow  me  to  present 
my  friend,  Captain  Benton." 

The  two  girls  looked  up,  and  once  more  Kitty 
Blake  and  Tom  Benton  met  very  unexpectedly. 

There  were  many  things  to  be  explained :  how 
Tom  and  Sir  John  came  to  be  acquainted;  how 
Kitty  came  to  know  Miss  Druse,  and  how  Kitty  and 
Tom  came  to  know  each  other.  When  it  came  out 
that  they  all  had  been  at  Mr.  Lindsay's  that  day  in 
Caracas,  and  that  Tom  had  seen  Kitty  and  Nellie 
as  they  left  the  house  for  their  walk,  and  that  Kitty 
had  seen  him  on  his  way  to  the  calaboose  after  being 
sentenced  to  death,  the  story  became  intensely  inter- 
esting. The  relation  of  one  adventure  led  to  another, 
and  Thomas  Benton  was  the  man  of  the  day  —  or 
rather  evening.  He  sat  between  the  two  handsomest 
girls  in  the  room,  —  Kitty  and  Nellie,  —  and,  in  answer 
to  their  endless  questions,  told  them  a  tale  of  ups  and 
downs,  and  of  hard  luck,  which,  almost  by  an  inter- 
position of  Providence,  was  at  last  changed  to  good. 

Tom  forgot  his  bashfulness,  encouraged  by  Nellie's 
sympathy  and  Kitty's  evident  pride  in  him  and  his 
doings.  When,  at  a  late  hour,  the  party  dispersed, 


LOOKED  TOM  BENTON  SQUARELY  IN  THE  EYES." 


CONCLUSION  363 

Sir  John  accompanied  him  to  his  room  for  a  smoke 
before  retiring. 

"  I  say,  Tom,"  said  he,  as  he  puffed  a  concealing 
cloud,  "  aren't  you  a  sly  one,  though  ?  " 

"  A  sly  one,  Sir  John  ?  I  don't  think  I  quite 
understand." 

"  I  told  you  all  about  my  affair  the  very  first  chance 
I  had ;  and  you  never  said  a  word,  but  just  let  me  run 
on  like  a  fool." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  anything  foolish  about  it. 
I  think  Miss  Druse  is  a  very  charming  young  lady 
indeed.  I  congratulated  you  before  I  had  seen  her, 
and  no  ,v  that  I  have,  I  repeat  it  most  emphatically. 
You  are  a  man  to  be  envied,  Sir  John." 

"  Of  course,  I  know  that,  but  how  about  yourself, 
old  man  ?  Why  did  you  keep  so  mum  about  your 
own  affair  ?  I  rather  think  you  are  to  be  envied 
too." 

"  I  really  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about. 
My  affair  ?  What  is  my  affair  ?  " 

"Well,  if  I  must  out  with  it,  I'll  admit  that  I  had 
a  little  scheme  in  my  mind  when  I  invited  you  down 
here.  I'm  a  great  admirer  of  Nellie's  friend,  and  I 
said  to  myself,  it  will  be  a  kindness  to  introduce 
Captain  Benton.  She  is  an  American,  and  they 
would  make  a  fine  match ;  and  now  I'll  be  hanged  if 
you  haven't  been  about  the  same  as  engaged  to  each 
other  all  your  lives." 


364  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"Miss  Druse's  friend?" 

"Why,  yes.  Miss  Blake.  How  dreadfully  obtuse 
you  pretend  to  be  all  at  once." 

"  Excuse  me,  Sir  John,  you  are  entirely  mistaken. 
Miss  Blake  and  I  were  playmates  in  childhood,  and 
the  closest  friends;  but  she  has  grown  away  from 
me,"  replied  Tom,  with  an  ill-suppressed  sigh. 

Sir  John  smoked  furiously  in  silence  for  some 
minutes.  Then,  removing  his  pipe  and  slowly  knock- 
ing out  the  ashes,  he  said :  — 

"Tom,  I  believe  you  and  I  may  call  ourselves 
friends,  may  we  not  ?  " 

"  I  am  certainly  very  proud  to  think  so,"  replied 
Tom,  heartily. 

"Very  well,  then,  I  am  going  to  exercise  the 
privilege  that  makes  friendship  odious  —  I  am  going 
to  give  you  some  advice." 

"All  right,  go  ahead.  I  am  satisfied  beforehand 
that  any  advice  I  get  from  you  will  be  disinterested, 
at  least." 

"  Thanks.  No  bouquets  in  advance,  please ! 
Now,  then,  I  know  you  are  heels  over  head  in 
love  with  Miss  Blake.  I  know  you  are  bashful, 
just  as  bashful  as  I  was  when  I  proposed  to  Nel- 
lie. And  I  tell  you,  Tom,  I  would  rather  have 
gone  out  unarmed  to  meet  a  wounded  jaguar  that 
day,  than  to  propose  to  that  little  woman,  —  and  she 
is  not  so  very  terrible,  either.  You  see,  I  had  no 


CONCLUSION  365 

reason  to  hope  for  success,  but  with  you  it's  alto- 
gether different.  Miss  Blake  has  waited  years  for 
your  return,  and  now  that  you  have  returned  she's 
waiting  yet." 

"  Hold  on,  Sir  John  !  Hold  on  !  There  are  some 
things  a  man  doesn't  like  to  hear  spoken  lightly  of." 

"  Aha !  What  did  I  say  ?  It's  your  confounded 
bashfulness,  or  rather  the  undervaluation  you  put 
on  yourself,  that  stands  between  you  and  your  own 
happiness.  Now  don't  interrupt  me  again,  please, 
and  I'll  prove  it  to  you.  You  can  understand  that 
Nellie  tells  me  a  great  many  things  nowadays  that 
she  would  not  have  told  me  a  month  ago,  and  being 
in  love  ourselves,  we  are  very  naturally  interested 
in  the  love-affairs  of  our  friends.  Nellie  and  Miss 
Blake  were  inseparable  at  school,  and  long  before 
Nellie  ever  dreamed  of  having  an  affair  of  her  own 
she  listened  to,  sympathized  with,  and  cried  over  the 
story  Miss  Blake  told  her  of  the  sailor-boy  who  had 
gone  away  to  conquer  the  world  single-handed,  and 
for  whose  return  she  hoped  as  she  hoped  for  nothing 
else  in  this  world.  She  was  ambitious  to  study  and 
improve  herself  solely  that  she  might  be  the  more 
pleasing  in  his  eyes.  Do  you  know  that  during  her 
tour  of  Europe  she  has  been  often  sought  in  mar- 
riage, and  has  discouraged  her  suitors  because  she 
was  waiting,  hoping,  and  praying  for  the  return  of 
Tom  Benton  ?  Do  you  know  that,  since  you  have 


366  TOM   BENTON'S    LUCK 

met  again,  she  has  been  alternately  happy  and  de- 
pressed as  you  seemed  to  approach  or  recede  from 
the  important  question  ?  I  haven't  very  much  grit 
myself  in  matters  of  this  kind,  but,  by  the  Lord 
Harry !  if  I  had  the  assurance  of  success  that  you 
have,  I  wouldn't  delay  a  minute." 

Tom  was  deeply  affected  by  Sir  John's  recital.  He 
was  obliged  to  turn  his  head  while  listening  to  the 
story  of  Kitty's  unfaltering  faith  in  him,  and  when 
he  felt  able  to  control  his  voice  he  asked :  — 

"  Do  you  think  Miss  Blake  still  feels  as  kindly 
toward  me  as  she  did  years  ago  at  school  ? " 

"  Why,  only  to-day  Nellie  carried  me  off  on  a  long 
walk  to  tell  me  the  latest  developments  in  the  case. 
Womanlike,  she  only  remembered  such  parts  of  the 
story  as  interested  her;  but  I  knew,  when  she  told 
of  the  rescue  in  mid-ocean,  that  it  was  you ;  and  I 
nearly  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,  which  would  have 
spoiled  all  the  pleasure  of  a  surprise  this  evening. 
Now  there  you  are.  I'm  off  to  bed,  and  if  I  don't 
hear  a  satisfactory  report  of  you  inside  of  twenty- 
four  hours  you  are  not  the  gallant  sailor  I  take  you 
for.  Good-night." 

Tom  sat  and  smoked  and  thought  a  long  time  after 
Sir  John  left  him,  and  his  last  thought  before  he  fell 
asleep  was  "  God  bless  her,  she's  a  jewel !  "  He  slept 
the  dreamless  sleep  of  perfect  health,  and  rose  in  the 
morning  to  find  the  sun  shining  gloriously  on  the 


CONCLUSION  367 

fair  English  landscape.  It  was  a  day  for  joyous 
deeds  and  unalloyed  happiness. 

Sir  John  proposed  a  riding  party  after  breakfast. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  said  Kitty,  "  that  Captain  Benton 
doesn't  ride.  You  know  sailors  seldom  do." 

Sir  John  laughed.  "  I  can  assure  you,"  said  he, 
"that  you  need  have  no  fear  of  Captain  Benton's 
abilities  in  that  line.  Any  man  who  has  served  two 
years  as  a  llanero  on  the  Apure  need  have  no  fear 
of  an  English  saddle-horse." 

Away  they  cantered,  as  merry  a  party  as  could 
have  been  found  among  the  flower-scented  lanes 
of  old  England  that  day.  Sir  John  (sly  dog)  pro- 
posed that  Tom  and  Kitty  should  take  the  lead,  as, 
being  strangers,  they  would  thus  enjoy  the  pleasures 
of  discovery.  They  both  blushed  consciously;  but 
neither  objected.  Sir  John  and  Nellie  gradually 
dropped  astern,  and  he  told  her  of  his  conversation 
with  Tom  the  night  before.  When  they  arrived  at 
a  crossroad  they  turned  off,  unperceived  by  the 
couple  in  advance. 

Tom  and  Kitty  talked  at  first  on  commonplace 
topics,  addressing  each  other  as,  "  Captain  Benton," 
and  "  Miss  Blake,"  but  gradually  the  conversation 
took  a  retrospective  turn  ;  they  spoke  of  the  sails 
they  used  to  enjoy  in  the  Sprite,  and  of  their  ren- 
dezvous on  the  island. 

"Those   were    the    happiest    days    I    have   ever 


368  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

known,"  said  Tom,  "  and  I  wish  we  could  go  back 
to  them  again." 

"  So  do  I,"  Kitty  replied  with  frank  ingenuous- 
ness. 

Tom  cast  a  furtive  glance  toward  her,  and  caught 
her  in  the  same  act.  "  You  called  me  '  Tom  '  in 
those  days,"  said  he. 

"  I  know  it,  and  you  used  to  call  me  '  Kitty.' '; 

"  I  should  like  to  again  —  may  I  ?  " 

"Why,  certainly.     I  see  no  harm  in  that." 

" Thank  you!  And  call  me  Tom  again  —  won't 
you,  Kitty  ? " 

"Yes  — Tom." 

He  reined  his  horse  close  to  hers,  and  continued 
in  low,  earnest  tones  :  — 

"  Kitty,  when  I  left  Portland  that  time,  I  told  you 
I  would  never  return  until  I  was  captain  of  as  fine 
a  ship  as  your  father  ever  commanded.  Of  course 
I  did  not  realize  then  the  great  social  distance  ex- 
isting between  me,  a  penniless  sailor,  and  the 
daughter  of  wealthy  Captain  Blake.  My  highest 
ideal  of  success  was  the  position  of  captain  of  a  fine 
ship.  You  were  the  only  friend  I  had  in  those 
days,  Kitty ;  you  encouraged  me  and  believed  in  me. 
During  the  years  that  have  passed  since  then,  I 
have  had  but  one  object  in  view,  —  to  prove  to  you 
that  your  faith  in  me  was  not  unfounded.  During 
those  years  of  hardship  and  disappointment  I 


CONCLUSION  369 

never  lost  hope  of  some  day  —  I  didn't  know  how  — 
coming  to  you,  and  saying,  '  Kitty,  I  have  suc- 
ceeded.' And  when  the  day  came,  and  I  sought 
you  in  Portland,  and  that  woman  told  me  you  were 
dead,  —  had  been  dead  for  years,  —  you  may  imagine 
how  I  felt.  I  wished  that  I  too  had  died,  rather 
than  come  back  to  this.  It  seemed  that  all  my 
exertions  had  gone  for  nothing,  and  my  success  had 
no  value,  now  that  you  were  not  there  to  approve 
it.  But  I  have  found  you  again,  dear  Kitty  ;  I  know 
how  far  you  are  above  me  socially,  but  I  loved  you 
then,  I  always  have  loved  you,  and  I  love  you  now. 
You  know  me,  you  know  who  and  whai;  I  am ;  I 
want  you  to  be  my  wife  —  will  you  ? " 

Kitty  had  been  gazing  straight  ahead  between  her 
horse's  ears,  the  color  coming  and  going  prettily  in 
her  cheeks  as  Tom,  hesitatingly,  —  and  in  tremulous 
tones,  awkwardly  and  bashfully,  but  with  the  elo- 
quence of  deep  feeling,  —  told  his  love.  When  he 
asked  the  momentous  question,  she  turned  —  her 
eyes  brimming  —  and  answered  simply:  — 

"  Yes,  Tom." 

When  the  four  met  at  dinner,  Sir  John  and  Nellie 
glanced  at  their  friends,  and  then  at  each  other, 
knowingly.  After  dinner,  the  gentlemen  adjourned 
to  the  garden  for  a  smoke,  and  Nellie,  assuming  a 
matronly,  protective  air,  passed  her  arm  affectionately 
about  her  chum's  waist,  saying  :  — 

2  B 


3/O  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

"Let's go  up  to  my  room,  love." 

And  so  the  murder  was  out ! 

Tom  wrote  to  his  agent  in  London  that  he  would 
not  be  ready  to  sail  for  a  month  yet.  Before  the 
month  expired,  there  was  a  double  wedding  in  the 
old  mansion  down  in  Kent,  and  Mrs.  De  Lacey 
graced  the  ceremony  with  her  presence  and  added 
her  wishes  for  long  life  and  happiness. 

When  the  Socotra  sailed,  Mrs.  De  Lacey  and  Kitty 
resumed  their  interrupted  voyage  on  board  of  her. 

As  Kitty,  her  arm  linked  lovingly  in  Tom's,  paced 
the  good  ship's  quarterdeck,  she  gloried  in  her  self- 
made  sailor  husband.  But  from  her  experience  in 
the  Sutherland,  she  had  acquired  a  dread  of  the 
treacherous,  unstable  sea,  and  she  begged  Tom  to 
quit  it.  He  laughed  at  her,  and  defied  her  to  com- 
pare his  ship  with  the  old  worn-out  basket  in  which 
she  had  unwittingly  taken  passage.  He  declared 
he  felt  safer  on  board  the  Socotra  than  he  did  ashore, 
where  he  was  liable  at  any  time  to  be  run  over  by 
a  truck.  "It  has  been  my  best  friend  —  except 
you,  Kitty,"  said  he,  "and  besides,  every  cent  I  have 
in  the  world  is  invested  in  this  ship,  and  I  should 
not  like  to  hand  her  over  to  a  stranger." 

Then  Kitty  remembered  something  she  had  long 
since  forgotten ;  and  she  told  him  of  the  twelve 
thousand  dollars  that  had  lain  all  these  years  in 
the  bank  awaiting  his  orders. 


CONCLUSION  3/1 

Tom  took  her  in  his  arms  and  pressed  a  resound- 
ing kiss  on  her  rosy  lips.  "  If  ever  a  man  had  cause 
to  be  proud  of  his  wife,"  he  said,  "  I  am  that  man ! 
Kitty,  you  are  a  jewel !  This  is  the  first  favor  you 
have  asked  me,  and  I  promise  you  faithfully  that 
I  will  manage —  somehow  —  so  that  this  shall  be  my 
very  last  voyage." 

And  she  was  so  grateful  and  so  happy  that  he 
wondered  how  he  ever  had  the  heart  to  refuse 
her  even  for  an  instant.  What  was  ambition,  a 
career,  a  ship,  even  his  peerless  Socotra,  that  it 
should  cast  even  a  momentary  shadow  on  her  happi- 
ness ? 

When  they  arrived  in  New  York,  Kitty  insisted  on 
going  with  him  to  hunt  up  Jerry  Hale.  They  found 
him  farther  down  the  market  in  a  new  stall.  They 
patronized  him,  and  Kitty  complimented  him  on  the 
lightness  of  his  butter-cakes.  Jerry  was  nowise 
astonished  when  Tom  called  him  by  name,  for  like 
other  celebrities,  he  was  known  to  more  people  than 
he  could  remember.  He  was  a  bit  gray  and  slightly 
hard  of  hearing.  So,  when  the  lunch  was  finished, 
and  Tom  asked,  "  Had  anybody  scraping  your  ham- 
rinds  lately,  Jerry?"  he  inclined  his  head  and 
answered,  "  'Ow's  that,  sir?"  and  when  Tom  told 
him  that  he  was  the  boy  who,  some  nine  years  pre- 
viously, had  scraped  the  ham-rind  that  he  found 
in  Jerry's  swill-tub,  the  old  fellow  was  so  mixed, 


372  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

between  pleasure  at  the  meeting  and  morti- 
fication at  the  remembrance,  that  he  could  only 
shake  Tom's  hand  and  laugh  and  blush  furiously. 
A  comparison  of  notes  showed  that  Jerry's  fortunes 
had  remained  about  stationary  during  all  this  time. 
There  had  been  several  opportunities,  of  which  he 
had  been  unable  to  take  advantage  for  the  want  of 
capital.  There  was  one  now :  a  very  successful 
restaurant  in  Catherine  Street  was  for  sale,  the  owner 
having  recently  died ;  but  it  would  require  five  or 
six  hundred  dollars  to  get  it ;  and  as  far  as  he  was 
concerned  it  might  as  well  be  the  same  number  of 
thousands,  ay,  or  millions. 

Before  Tom  left  New  York,  Jerry  was  in  the 
Catherine  Street  restaurant ;  and  before  another  year 
rolled  round,  he  paid  his  indebtedness  to  Tom  and 
owned  a  fine  business  all  clear. 

Then  there  was  a  flying  trip  to  the  Staggs,  who 
were  delighted  and  flattered  by  a  visit  from  "  Sarah" 
and  her  smart  young  husband ;  but  Mr.  Hayward 
had  looked  after  their  welfare  so  thoroughly  that 
they  declared  themselves  in  want  of  nothing,  abso- 
lutely nothing.  Kitty  insisted  on  being  allowed  to 
make  them  a  present  as  a  keepsake  from  herself, 
to  which  they  finally  agreed ;  and  she  sent  them 
a  silver  tea-set  from  Tiffany's,  which  is  the  pride 
and  boast  of  the  neighborhood  to  this  day. 

They  went  to  Portland  and  became  the  guests  of 


CONCLUSION  373 

the  Haywards,  whose  joy  at  seeing  Kitty  was  un- 
bounded. Tom  chartered  a  yacht  as  much  like  the 
Sprite  as  he  could  -find,  and,  with  Kitty  at  the  helm, 
they  renewed  their  youth  by  taking  long  sails  on  the 
beautiful  bay.  They  visited  the  island  where  they 
had  played  at  keeping  house,  and  one  of  the  most 
prized  articles  in  Kitty's  cabinet  of  curiosities  is 
a  broken  iron  teaspoon  which  she  discovered  on  the 
site  of  their  former  hearthstone. 

Mindful  of  his  promise,  Tom  sought  a  reliable  man 
as  master  for  the  Socotra.  His  search  brought  him 
in  contact  with  the  maritime  community  of  his  native 
city,  and  as  his  story  became  known,  the  sterling 
character  of  his  father  was  recalled,  and  the  gray- 
beards  decided  that  Tom  was  made  of  the  right  kind 
of  stuff  himself. 

The  manager  of  the  line  to  which  the  Columbia 
belonged  saw  fit  to  retire ;  the  directors,  looking  for 
young  blood,  had  their  attention  attracted  to  Tom, 
and  offered  him  the  position.  He  asked  if  they 
would  take  the  Socotra  in  lieu  of  stock,  and  they  did ; 
so  it  came  about  that  in  nine  years  and  four  months 
from  the  day  that  Bully  Blake  kicked  Tom  Benton 
out  of  the  ofrice,  he  reentered  it  as  the  company's 
manager,  and  seated  himself  in  the  identical  chair 
Captain  Blake  had  occupied  that  morning. 

Tom  Benton  sits  in  the  parlor  of  his  well-appointed 
home  with  his  son  Joe,  a  loquacious  young  man  of 


3/4  TOM   BENTON'S   LUCK 

three  years,  upon  his  knee.  He  has  just  read  a 
letter  from  jolly  Captain  Bradford,  the  Assam  tea- 
planter,  who  writes  that,  in  deference  to  his  liver,  he 
has  put  himself  on  half  allowance  of  brandy  and 
water  pawnee  lao. 

Tom  chucks  his  boy  under  the  chin,  passes  his 
hand  caressingly  over  his  wife's  glossy  hair,  and, 
with  an  affectionate  glance  toward  Mrs.  De  Lacey 
in  her  easy  chair  by  the  fire,  decides  that,  after  all, 
Tom  Benton's  luck  has  not  been  so  bad. 


ON  MANY  SEAS. 

THE  LIFE  AND  EXPLOITS  OF  A  YANKEE  SAILOR. 

BY 

HERBERT  ELLIOTT  HAMBLEN. 

EDITED    BY    HIS    FRIEND 

WILLIAM  STONE  BOOTH. 
i2mo.     Cloth.     $1.50. 


COMMENTS   OF   THE    PRESS. 

"Every  line  of  this  hits  the  mark,  and  to  anyone  who 
knows  the  forecastle  and  its  types  the  picture  appeals  with 
the  urgency  of  old  familiar  things.  All  through  his  four 
hundred  and  more  pages  he  is  equally  unaffected  and 
forcible,  equally  picturesque.  To  go  through  one  chapter 
is  to  pass  with  lively  anticipation  to  the  next.  His  book 
is  destined  to  be  remembered/'  —  New  York  Tribune. 

"  The  book  reads  like  a  romance,  but.  is  at  the  same 
time  realistic  history,  before  which  the  fancy  ships  and  the 
fancy  sailors  of  the  novelist  are  pale  and  faded." 

—  Baltimore  Sun. 

"The  charm  of  the  book  is  its  simplicity  and  truth. 
The  author,  as  I  happen  to  know,  can  spin  thrilling  yarns 
by  the  hour,  and  this  book  of  his  is  simply  one  long  yarn 
of  his  life.  A  seaman  every  inch  of  him,  he  writes  as 
only  a  sailor  can.  No  landsman,  no  amateur  yachtsman, 
could  write  a  book  like  this.  The  entire  book  bears  the 
stamp  of  truth,  and  in  this  age  of  literary  shams  that  is  a 
crowning  merit.1"  —  New  York  Herald. 


THE   MACM1LLAN   COMPANY, 
66  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


"  A  record  which  even  the  '  novels  of  incident '  could  scarcely  sut 
pass." — THE  REVIEW  OF  REVIEWS. 


THE  GENERAL  MANAGER'S 
STORY. 


BY 

HERBERT  E.   HAMBLEN, 

Author  of  "  On  Many  Seas." 

lamo.     Cloth.     $1.50. 


The  narrative  of  a  personal  experience  of  fifteen  years  as 
railroad  brakeman,  fireman,  and  engineer.  Telling  of  ad- 
ventures, of  narrow  escapes,  of  brave,  quick-witted  courage 
in  danger,  and  of  quiet  work  at  the  furnace  or  lever,  uncon- 
scious of  the  lives  depending  on  it. 

The  history  of  a  strike  is  in  the  book  also ;  in  short,  it 
is  a  vivid  picture  of  an  actual  life  spent  in  railroad  work, 
and  it  is  told  with  the  author's  well-known  dramatic  force 
and  characteristic  speech. 

It  is  as  absorbing  as  any  novel  of  adventure,  and  the  illus- 
trations are  equally  interesting,  since  the  artist  lived  among 
railroad  men  until  he  could  catch  precisely  the  group  needed 
for  the  story  told.  He  made  hundreds  of  sketches,  and  the 
details  of  his  finished  pictures  can  always  be  relied  upon. 


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YANKEE  SHIPS  AND  YANKEE 
SAILORS:    Tales  of  J8J2. 

BY 

JAMES  BARNES, 

Author  of  "Naval  Engagements  of  the  War  of  1812." 
"  A  Loyal  Traitor,"  "  For  King  and  Country"  etc. 

With  Numerous  Illustrations  by  R.  F.  ZOGBAUM  and 
CARLTON  T.  CHAPMAN. 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  gilt  top.     $1.50. 


COMMENTS. 

"  There  are  passages  in  this  book  which  are  as  strong 
and  captivating  as  the  work  of  the  best  writers  of  the 
day;  to  mariners  and  those  who  love  the  sea  and  ships 
these  tales  will  appeal  irresistibly. 

"  Each  story  is  a  gem  by  itself.  It  is  told  with  a  direct- 
ness and  a  strength  which  carries  conviction.  All  are 
based  upon  actual  occurrences,  Mr.  Barnes  tells  us,  and 
while  some  of  the  incidents  related  may  come  under  the 
head  of  tradition,  yet  most  of  them  are  historical  facts,  and 
he  has  worked  up  each  tale  so  cleverly,  so  compactly,  so 
entertainingly,  that  they  may,  one  and  all,  be  taken  for 
models  of  their  kind.1'  —  Seaboard. 

"  Good  stories  well  told  are  those  of  '  Yankee  Ships  and 
Yankee  Sailors.1  They  deal  with  the  gallant  defenders  of 
such  vessels  as  the  Chesapeake,  the  Vixen,  the  fiery  little 
Wasp,  and  grand  '  Old  Ironsides.'1  All  the  stories  are 
told  in  a  spirited  style  that  will  quicken  the  blood  and  the 
love  of  country  in  every  Yankee  heart." 

— New  England  Magazine. 


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66  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL. 

BY 

COLONEL  HENRY  INMAN. 
8vo.     Cloth.     $3.50. 

Preface  by  Col.  W.  F.  CODY  (Buffalo  Bill).  Eight  full-page  repro- 
ductions in  photogravure  of  Illustrations  by  FREDERIC  REMING- 
TON. Initials,  Tailpieces,  etc.,  in  the  text,  comprising  portraits 
of  famous  Indians,  scouts,  trappers,  etc.,  points  of  special  inter- 
est on  the  Trail,  etc. 


PRESS    COMMENTS. 

From  the  New  York  Tribune  : 

"  Colonel  Inman's  recollections  cover  a  period  of  more  than  thirty  years. 
For  events  of  the  earlier  part  of  the  century  he  has  been  able  to  draw  upon 
reminiscences  of  comrades  who  had  themselves  participated  in  them.  Hence 
his  book  is  authentic  in  its  data,  and  presents  a  picture  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe 
Trail  which  lacks  nothing  of  verisimilitude  and  burning  color.  He  has,  too,  a 
straightforward  and  persuasive  style.  No  better  historian  of  his  subject  could 
have  been  chosen.  .  .  .  Starting  out  to  write  a  history  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail 
from  just  before  the  time  in  the  early  twenties  when  wagon  trains  took  the  place 
of  pack  mules,  Colonel  Inman  tries  to  be  historical  and  consecutive,  but  he  soon 
yields  to  the  temptation  to  drop  into  plainsman's  yarns,  and  to  write  as  though 
he  were  amusing  the  listeners  around  a  camp-fire.  It  is  not  in  the  least  to  his 
discredit.  The  book  is  better  for  its  informality.  .  .  The  main  point  is  that 
Colonel  Inman  is  unfailingly  graphic  and  stirring,  that  he  revives  indubitable 
pictures  of  the  old  trail  that  is  now  no  more  than  a  memory,  and  he  brings  once 
more  upon  the  scene  the  Indians  and  Indian  fighters,  the  red  warriors  and  white 
captives,  the  picturesque  old  stage  coaches,  the  scouts,  trappers,  teamsters,  mur- 
derers and  other  desperadoes  who  belong  to  the  romantic  era  of  our  history. 
For  that  and  for  the  excellent  illustrations  to  his  story  let  us  be  thankful." 

MRS.  LILIAN  WHITING  in  The  Inter-Ocean,  Chicago: 

"  That  truth  is  stranger  than  fiction  is  attested  by  the  extraordinary  develop- 
ments of  that  new  book  by  Colonel  Henry  Inman,  'The  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail,' 


giving  the  story  of  a  great  highway.  Here  is  a  detective  romance,  a  sensational 
novel,  a  story  as  startling  in  its  developments  as  is  Irving's  play  'The  Lyons 
Mail,'  and  yet  a  part  of  the  history  of  our  own  country.  .  .  .  The  story  of  this 


old  highway  is  a  chapter  in  American  history  of  the  most  romantic  interest. 
The  contrast  of  the  life  in  the  decade  of  1830-40  to  that  of  1890  1900  in  our 
country  is  something  beyond  imagination." 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY, 
66  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


